


Another Pretty Vein

by Joyous32



Series: Centuries [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - 2000s, F/M, Immortality, M/M, Multi, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 31,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joyous32/pseuds/Joyous32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have found Grantaire again and must prove him innocent before they can prove that Grantaire has a reason for survival. Meanwhile, they enlist Javert to find Cosette...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wings on Lead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras convinces Grantaire to allow him to be his lawyer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of war, murder, and racism.  
> 

_"Coming in unannounced, drag my nails on the tile_

_I just follow your scent, you can just follow my smile"_

_-"Irresistible" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New Rochelle, New York**

“How does the defendant plea?” The judge asked lazily.

“Guil—”

“Not guilty!” A voice shouted as the doors burst open and a blonde man in a suit with a red tie entered. “I’m sorry, your honor. Council James Markson has broken several levels of conduct including Rules 1.5 and 1.6. Therefore, Rene Grantaire is allowed to choose another attorney to represent him. And as a current option, I highly recommend that you do not address me at this moment, Mr. Grantaire.” The man concluded and the judge just stared him down.

“Your evidence?” The judge finally asked and the man stepped forward, entering the well easily and handing the judge a file. After reading through it, the judge cleared his throat.

“You are correct. Mr. Markson, I find you in violation of Rules 1.5, 1.6 and 4.2. Court adjourned and reinstituted when the court date is made. Mr.?”

“Enjolras.” Enjolras held out his hand to the judge who shook it before dismissing the court. Smiling, Enjolras turned back to see the defendant glaring at him. Undeterred, Enjolras swiftly walked over and held out his hand to the man.

“I am Tyson Enjolras. Will you have me as your new attorney?”

“No.”

“What?”

“Mr. Enjolras, I am thankful for the sentiment, but you are not who I am looking for.” Grantaire announced and Enjolras blinked as the man was led away. There was a statement that he never expected to come from Grantaire.

Back at the prison, Grantaire was informed that his attorney had arrived, which didn't seem likely after what had happened to the last one so recently. He entered the room and sighed. "This man is not my attorney."

"I have legal proof." Enjolras countered.

"I have my say in the matter, which states plainly that you are not my attorney." Grantaire responded and Enjolras narrowed his eyes.

"I don't think that's how it works." He remarked and Grantaire groaned as he was sat across from Enjolras.

"What is it that interests you about my case, Mr. Enjolras?" Grantaire questioned and Enjolras smirked.

"You." Enjolras replied and Grantaire sat, waiting for an explanation. Enjolras stared back for a moment longer. "After analyzing your selected attorneys, I have discovered several things about your choices. They are all submissive. They are all willing to throw away cases. And they were all men."

"What are you implying?" Grantaire questioned, hiding the red creeping onto his face.

"You believe you are guilty." Enjolras stated, changing the subject when he saw that Grantaire was uncomfortable with where he was taking the conversation.

"I do."

"What if I told you that I do not?" Enjolras tilted his head.

"I don't care. You weren't there."

"You were." Enjolras responded and Grantaire narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"Yep. That's how I managed to kill them." Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

"You're protecting someone." Enjolras countered and Grantaire rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair.

"Yes. All those families I could be out there killing as well." Grantaire replied.

"He has a family. A wife and a son. Or a male lover."

"Excuse me?" Grantaire snapped.

"Either way, he is suffering from trauma, which means he should not have been held accountable for his actions. Yet, you're still protecting him." Enjolras furrowed his eyebrows. "Which means that you believe he is better. Or that you know he could be taken away from his family and placed in an asylum."

"That's a fun little story. I'm sure the court will have no trouble following that." Grantaire responded.

"Then what's to lose?" Enjolras smirked.

"My money."

"You're a dead man anyway. Anyway, I work free of charge."

"You're too smart. You wouldn't use that argument." Grantaire waved him off and Enjolras pressed his lips together, leaning closer to Grantaire.

"No. I would argue that you are a soldier who has been dishonorably discharged for an act that is justifiable and should therefore have all charges dropped." Enjolras concluded and leaned back again, fiercely staring Grantaire down in a way that Grantaire could swear looked familiar.

After a few silent moments, Grantaire leaned into the table. "They will never look at me, a colored murderer and set me free. Regardless of my attorney. I don't feel like enduring the audience."

"This isn't the sixties." Enjolras rolled his eyes and Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

"You know nothing, white boy." Grantaire responded and Enjolras winced.

"I have a friend who's older and blacker than you are and she got off on worse odds than this." Enjolras snapped.

"And you wish to ruin your reputation with me, Mr. Enjolras?" Grantaire asked and Enjolras burst into a grin.

"This is my first trial." Enjolras responded and Grantaire blinked before laughing.

"Fine. You can be my attorney. If you lose, I'll will you what money is due."

"I said I didn't-"

"You also stated the truth. That I am a dead man. So you'd better take the money."

"You would pay me to lose your trial." Enjolras stated in confusion and Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't purposely lose your first trial. Especially after all I've seen you do today to prove me innocent. You want me to be innocent." Grantaire commented and Enjolras nodded before smiling and standing. He held out his hand to be shaken and Grantaire held up his cuffed hands in response. Enjolras leaned forward to shake one.

"I look forward to working with you, Mr. Grantaire. Oh, and I've paid your bail." Enjolras smirked as Grantaire cursed at him. "My friends and I are willing to house you if you are homeless."

"Why?" Grantaire asked.

"My friends have been eager to meet you. You're somewhat of a legacy in our home." Enjolras finished and shut the door behind himself.

Soon after, Grantaire entered the lobby of the police department to see Enjolras waiting. Grantaire glared at the man, but followed him. Outside, Enjolras introduced Grantaire to Joly, who claimed to be an orderly, which made Grantaire slightly uncomfortable. Still, they headed off to Enjolras's house, which he claimed to share with two other men whom he considered brothers. When Grantaire commented on Enjolras's age, Enjolras claimed to be a prodigy and that he looked young for his age. All of this made Grantaire suspicious, but he remained silent.


	2. Monster That You See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire meets Combeferre and Eponine, who have asked Javert for help.

 

_"You know time crawls on when you're waiting for the song to start  
So dance alone to the beat of your heart"_

_-"The Phoenix" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New Rochelle, New York**

"I still don't understand why I am here." Javert grumbled.

"We found Grantaire and several others. We need to know if Cosette was raised by her own parents. You have always been the best at finding Valjean-"

"Debatable." Eponine coughed.

"So, we'd like you to find them. This way we know if we will succeed." Combeferre finished, giving Eponine a look.

"And you believe that Cosette's whereabouts will prove this?" Javert asked and Combeferre raised an eyebrow. Javert remained silent, knowing that after all he had done during a previous generation to prove Valjean guilty, he could not speak out honorably about the matter. "Fine. I will do what I can." Javert decided.

"Thank you." Combeferre replied as Eponine huffed.

When Javert opened the door to leave, he saw Enjolras and Joly there, standing with Grantaire. "Messieurs Enjolras, Joly and Grantaire." Javert gave a slight bow, eyed Grantaire for a moment and then continued out the door.

"Who was that?" Grantaire asked when they shut the door.

"A coworker of Eponine's." Enjolras gestured to Eponine.

"And this is Combeferre. Where's Courfeyrac?" Joly asked.

"Won't be home 'til tomorrow." Eponine answered as Combeferre typed furiously on his laptop. Enjolras glanced at Combeferre and frowned before nodding.

"Well, I'll show Grantaire his room then." Enjolras decided and Combeferre gave a slight nod of his head, having been told off before for not responding when spoken to because of that laptop. When they entered Grantaire's room, Grantaire looked to Enjolras in confusion.

"I thought you said they were excited to meet me." He commented and Enjolras shrugged.

"Tough crowd at the moment. We're looking for a friend of ours. Police aren't that interested in the case since it's just one missing person who has been assumed dead, but…we stay hopeful." Enjolras explained and Grantaire nodded.

"So, why would they be excited to meet me in the first place?" Grantaire inquired and Enjolras stared, opening his mouth to answer and then wincing.

"You know Eponine? She works with Fort Hamilton, like you. She just doesn't get sent out to fight. She heard about your case and believed that you were protecting someone. When she heard who was representing you, she called me with the information and told me to represent you. She's been talking about you and the different ways in which you could be innocent ever since you came home." Enjolras explained and Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I'm pretty sure you know I don't swing that way, so make sure she knows too."

"Her friend left her a few years ago and she's still not over it. She's not interested."

"Her…friend?" Grantaire questioned and Enjolras sighed.

"It's complicated." He finished.

As they reentered the living room, they heard Combeferre and Eponine talking. "You should call Courfeyrac when he gets off." Eponine suggested, lounging across the couch. Enjolras sat beside her, picking up a folder and rifling through it.

"I don't know when he gets off." Combeferre replied monotonously as Grantaire sat in the armchair beside Enjolras.

"He told you the times." Eponine insisted and Combeferre sighed.

"Our relationship is none of your business, Eponine. So, to put it in cruder terms, butt out." Combeferre replied and Eponine's eyes widened. She stayed silent as Enjolras frowned and gave Eponine an apologetic glance on behalf of his best friend.

"You all have very French names." Grantaire commented to break the awkward silence.

"You're one to talk." Eponine added and Grantaire shrugged and nodded.

"Not to be demanding, but do you guys have anything to drink around here?"

"Water. Excuse me a moment, please." Enjolras announced before pulling out his phone and exiting the room.

"Do you know Bahorel?" Eponine asked and Grantaire tilted his head.

"No, why?"

"He was a soldier sent out to your base in Afghanistan. Thought you might remember him." Eponine explained.

"A friend of yours?"

"Yes." Eponine replied and then Combeferre's phone buzzed. He picked it up without checking to see who it was.

"Hello? Courf…I've been busy…yes, I know…Musiche- hold on." Combeferre held the phone away from his mouth to look at Eponine. "Where'd Joly go?"

"He's sleeping. Got the night shift." Eponine concluded.

"Oh... I'll let him know when he wakes up; I don't want to disturb him. She remembers?" Combeferre continued the conversation with Courfeyrac and Eponine didn't seem to care about tact while she obviously listened in. "Okay. No, he's here, but he doesn't remember." Combeferre was careful with pronouns, which Grantaire noticed. "Okay…okay, yes, I know, I'm sorry…I love you, too…Yeah, see you tomorrow. Bye." Combeferre placed the phone down and sighed.

"Your boyfriend knows about me too?" Grantaire asked and Combeferre looked to him in surprise.

"What?"

"What don't I remember?" He continued and Combeferre looked back to his computer screen.

"I wasn't talking about you." Combeferre remarked under his breath and Grantaire narrowed his eyes.

"I don't believe you."

"You don't believe in anything. Anyway, I was talking about Joly." Combeferre responded, his voice growing tense. Enjolras entered the room.

"You said that 'he is here'." Grantaire protested and Combeferre looked at him.

"You are not the center of all conversation in this house, Grantaire." Combeferre stated. Enjolras shook his head at Grantaire, but the man didn't hear the warning in Combeferre's voice.

"But, you don't deny that Courfeyrac is your boyfriend." Grantaire continued.

"Why should I?" Combeferre's voice became dangerously low.

"We're all gay in this house, Grantaire." Enjolras informed him. "We're not open about it, but we don't hide the fact either." Combeferre had turned back to his computer and the room was silent again except for Combeferre's furious typing.

"Well, I'm not gay." Eponine remarked and Enjolras rolled his eyes.

"You don't live here, either."

"Yeah, thanks for that."

"Eponine lives here when she wants to." Combeferre announced.

"What does that mean?" Grantaire asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Eponine stays at Fort Hamilton unless she's on vacation and visiting." Enjolras tilted his head at her and she shrugged playfully. "Where’s your brother?" Enjolras asked, changing the subject.

"Same as usual." Eponine muttered under her breath and pulled out a magazine, clearly not interested in this conversation topic. Her signals were clear enough for Grantaire to hesitate from asking about her brother. Instead, he turned to Enjolras.

"You guys are creepy and secretive. I'm going to bed." He decided and Enjolras blinked, trying to figure out where that had come from.

"We've got to go over questions for your next trial date. I've scheduled it for-"

"Good for you; thank you for the room and good night." Grantaire decided and exited.

"That went well." Eponine grumbled. Enjolras's eyes focused on Combeferre and Eponine looked up, but remained silent. Enjolras stood and grabbed the back of Combeferre's chair, spinning him around to face Enjolras as Enjolras stopped Combeferre from falling out of the chair and Combeferre stopped the laptop from falling.

" _Please refrain from taking your relationship problems out on the rest of us. Especially ignorant individuals such as Grantaire._ " Enjolras stated in French and in his face, but Combeferre just stared back blankly. Enjolras searched his eyes and then stepped away, seeing the sadness hidden behind the robotic gray eyes. At that, Enjolras looked away and sighed. "We've been here two hundred years, Combeferre. And with how things are going, we've got to assume it'll be another two hundred. You can't cut off all human connections. It's rotting you from the inside out."


	3. Blood Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre and Enjolras continue researching while helping Grantaire win his case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of racism, insomnia, and suicidal thoughts.

_"Hey young blood, doesn't it feel like our time is running out?  
_

_I'm gonna change you like a remix_

_Then I'll raise you like a phoenix_

_Wearing our vintage misery_

_No, I think it looked a little better on me."_

_-"The Phoenix" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New Rochelle, New York**

"What about the lack of time between the last death and the next birth?" Enjolras asked Combeferre as he peered over his friend's shoulder.

"I know, it doesn't make sense. The first time through, it was a hundred and ten years, now it was just forty…ish since the last death."

"Who was the last death?" Enjolras asked, tensing up slightly.

"Musichetta in '45. Lynch mob found out she had black heritage." Combeferre responded and Enjolras winced. "There was nothing you could've done for him. Within the group that we know to have been alive, they all died in '45 if they weren't already dead. A consequence of whatever's causing these rebirths, I guess."

"What if they all have to die by the time they reach the age they were when they first died?" Enjolras asked and Combeferre sighed, rechecking to see if the numbers fit.

"Jeez, do you guys ever sleep?" Grantaire asked, emerging from his room in a state of undress that neither man noticed.

"No. Here." Enjolras handed him a file without looking up from Combeferre's laptop. Combeferre hit him and he grunted, but looked back to Grantaire.

"It's barely light out. When did you work on this?" He asked, leafing through the file.

"Last night." Enjolras responded. In all honesty, he hadn't slept at all. After living two hundred years, a little lack of sleep seemed like nothing.

"And what am I supposed to do with it?" Grantaire asked, sitting down on the couch.

"Read through it. Tell me what wouldn't work as a questioning line. When you're finished, we're going through answers as well." Enjolras informed him and he sighed.

"M'kay." Grantaire mumbled and Enjolras shuffled into the kitchen to make coffee.

"I'm home, mon amis!" The front door slammed open to show Courfeyrac. Combeferre jumped up with a smile and shut the door before wrapping his arms around Courfeyrac.

"We've missed you." Combeferre informed him as Courfeyrac walked him backwards so they weren't standing in the doorway. They kissed and Grantaire raised an eyebrow, but went back to his reading. Combeferre grunted and Enjolras sighed. "You need to cut your hair." Combeferre told Courfeyrac.

"It's the newest style." Courfeyrac informed his boyfriend and Combeferre narrowed his eyes. "And I need it this way for my newest film." Courfeyrac concluded.

"Bet you'd look great in a ponytail." Grantaire exclaimed without looking up from the file. Enjolras rolled his eyes as he handed Grantaire a cup of coffee.

"You must be Grantaire! Eponine's told me all about you." Courfeyrac explained and plopped down beside him to take his hand in his. "We are here for you and we will not let you down." Courfeyrac informed him, all playfulness lost. Enjolras felt his throat tighten, knowing why Courfeyrac was so insistent.

"Yeah? Well, Combeferre's told me all about you." Grantaire informed Courfeyrac with a glance at Combeferre, who had tensed. Grantaire smirked as Courfeyrac lit up. "Yeah, he wouldn't stop talking about you once he had his face taken out of that computer." Grantaire explained and Courfeyrac shrugged.

"My boyfriend is a hard worker." Courfeyrac wrapped his arms around Combeferre, who took his hand and led him off to their bedroom.

"Well, there's mixed signals if I've ever seen them." Grantaire remarked under his breath.

"Combeferre's stressed out."

"And he never shows emotions except around Courfeyrac." Joly plopped down beside Enjolras with two sugar packets and a spoon for Grantaire. "I'm assuming you prefer more flavor than just black like our Enjolras does."

"Actually, I do like black." Grantaire countered. "But thank you."

"Did Combeferre tell you about Musichetta?" Enjolras asked and Joly nodded, a big grin enchanting his face. "When will she be here?" Enjolras continued, smiling back at his friend.

"Next week." Joly informed him and Enjolras nodded.

"I'm happy for you, mon ami." Enjolras placed his hand on Joly's shoulder and Joly took the hand, squeezing it slightly before standing.

"I have work. I'll be home around this time, but p.m." Joly informed him and Enjolras nodded.

"Have a good day, then." Enjolras said.

"Good bye, Grantaire." Joly waved and Grantaire waved back. When Joly exited, Grantaire sighed.

"You know, to be honest, I thought you guys were going to use him to shove me in a psychiatric ward." Grantaire informed Enjolras, who narrowed his eyes. "Who's Musichetta?"

"Joly's childhood sweetheart. Courfeyrac found her and told her to come visit Joly."

"Romantic." Grantaire commented, somewhere in between uninterested and amiable. Enjolras sighed and then leaned closer to Grantaire.

"How far have you gotten?"

"Not very. This won't work. I was alone." Grantaire explained, pointing to Enjolras's request for a list of witnesses.

"Except for the people you supposedly killed." Enjolras remarked.

"I did kill them. And see, the fact is, I killed them dead. Dead people can't be brought on the witness stand." Grantaire commented and Enjolras suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the irony.

"You didn't kill them."

"Yes." Grantaire closed the file to grab Enjolras's completely attention. "I did, Enjolras." Enjolras glanced at him and Grantaire scooted back, realizing how little space there was between them. "You're trying to defend a guilty man."

"I don't believe you." Enjolras countered, stone-faced.

"That's your problem."

"How can I defend you, Grantaire?"

"That's also your problem. You said you wanted this case. I told you that it was a bad idea. You've been told since the beginning that I'm guilty and need to be locked up."

"If you're guilty, why haven't you killed anyone since then?"

"Logical fallacy. They'll come up with a motive."

"There is no logical motive for you to shoot up your cabin." Enjolras's voice lowered.

"Money. Relieve. Medication. Blind hatred. Drunkenness."

"You really wanna get drunk, don't you?" Enjolras questioned.

"What?" Grantaire stared him in the eye in confusion.

"Do you have any will to live right now, Grantaire?" Enjolras inquired, leaning forward again. Grantaire's eyes filled with terror and he smiled.

"Yeah, sure." Grantaire concluded and Enjolras shook his head.

"No you don't. It's clear in your eyes. You don't have any will to live and I just hit it on the dot, but that terrifies you." Enjolras's eyes narrowed as he zeroed in on Grantaire.

"Don't." Grantaire looked away and turned on the TV.

"When were you going to do it, Grantaire, huh?" Enjolras ripped the remote from Grantaire's hand and turned the TV back off, throwing it behind himself. "In the jail cell at the police station? Late last night in the bathroom? Couldn't do it then 'cause Combeferre and I were up."

"Enjolras, stop." Grantaire had his hands on his head as he cowered away from Enjolras.

"Why? It's true. What happened, Grantaire? What was it that made you take the fall for whoever this is? Who is it?" Enjolras grabbed Grantaire's hands and pulled them away from him when he saw that Grantaire was in the process of pulling his hair out. "Killers don't kill themselves except when there's frustration due to the whole situation. Explain, Grantaire. Why are you frustrated?"

"Shut up." Grantaire struggled out of Enjolras's grip, but Enjolras held fast.

"There's clearly something you're hiding."

"It's not worth it." Grantaire stood, but Enjolras followed, not letting go of Grantaire.

"Your life isn't worth it?"

"No!" Grantaire yanked one hand out of Enjolras's grip. "I have done so little and there's nothing more for me to do! Why should I survive this?" Grantaire barked and Enjolras winced away, staring back with hurt in his eyes before blinking and gritting his teeth.

"Come on." Enjolras let go of Grantaire's hand and walked over to the front door, slipping on his shoes and jacket.

"What?" Grantaire considered running back to his own room.

"I want to show you something." Enjolras stared at the floor in defeat, so Grantaire followed.


	4. Like a Balloon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras brings Grantaire to the place where he last died and Grantaire remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suicidal actions imitated.  
> If you can't read this chapter, the summary above should accurately explain all that is needed to know for the story to continue.  
> ANNOUNCEMENT: Next weekend for Christmas, I will have the next work's prequel as well as this work's next chapter. This work isn't nearing done, but I figured I could write something for Christmas, though, it's not actually happy. I didn't think through this very well. :\

_"There's a room in a hotel in New York City_

_That shares our fate and deserves our pity_

_I don't want to remember it all_

_The promises are made if you just hold on."_

_-"Twin Skeletons (Hotel in NYC)" by Fall Out Boy  
_

**2005, New York City, New York**

Enjolras's pure, unbridled determination that displayed itself plainly in his eyes stopped Grantaire from speaking on the ride. However, within twenty minutes, Grantaire grew impatient and uncaring. "Where are we going?"

"To a hotel."

"Why?"

"I want to show you something."

"You already said that. What?"

"You'll know when you see it. If not…" Enjolras sighed. "I will drop the subject of your will to live."

"How promising." Grantaire muttered.

"Are you French?" Enjolras asked Grantaire, who chuckled.

"Yep. Ancestors moved here back in the late eighteen hundreds and the name never died. Neither did the tendency to name your children ridiculously French names." Grantaire commented and Enjolras's eyes widened as he considered this, but stayed silent. "What about you?"

"Yes. Moved here with Combeferre, Joly and Courfeyrac when we were in college."

"What about Eponine?"

"We Frenchpeople tend to swarm. Met her here." This had been their story within the past twenty years, so Enjolras just went with it.

When they reached the hotel, Grantaire had fallen asleep. Enjolras sighed, but nudged him. It took a few tries before Grantaire woke up, snorting. "Well, you're definitely not an insomniac." Enjolras commented as he jumped out of the car, zipping up his jacket.

"Nope. Self diagnosed hypersomniac." Grantaire exclaimed and Enjolras raised his eyebrows before strolling into the hotel.

"Is Ruiz here?" Enjolras asked the man at the desk.

"Who's asking?"

"Enjolras." The man gave a slight nod and stalked out the back door, returning seconds later with a man covered in paint.

"Enjolras!"

"Feuilly." Enjolras smiled back, but the smile looked pressured.

"I've both dreaded and welcomed the day you'd be back here." The man responded, walking around the desk to hug Enjolras.

"Same here, mon ami." Enjolras commented. "This is Rene Grantaire. Grantaire, this is Fredrick Ruiz, who was adopted into our Frenchness with the name Feuilly." Enjolras explained and Grantaire shook the man's hand.

"Nice to meet you. I think." Grantaire concluded, narrowing his eyes and Feuilly laughed.

"Understandable. I'm sorry; that was a little mystic to you, wasn't it? It's okay. It'll all work out in the end." The man gripped Grantaire's shoulder and Grantaire gave him a smile before backing away behind Enjolras.

"Our room?" Enjolras asked and the man nodded, finding a key and handing it to Enjolras.

"I'll be down here if you need anything." The man informed him and Enjolras nodded slowly, as if in a trance. "Hey." The man caught Enjolras's arm. "No matter what, it's for the best." He stared directly into Enjolras's eyes and Enjolras gave him a small smile that looked a little more genuine. Then, Enjolras led Grantaire up the stairs.

"Why do we need a hotel room?"

"Sixty years ago this was a house." Enjolras informed him and then focused on unlocking the door.

"That explained nothing." Grantaire remarked when Enjolras didn't continue.

"Come on." Enjolras grabbed his shirtsleeve and pulled him into the room. Inside, was a hotel room. In all honesty, this surprised Grantaire after all the dramatics Enjolras and Feuilly had gone through to get him up here. Still, Enjolras continued, stalking over to the bathroom and shutting the door quickly when Grantaire reached it. "Sixty years ago, a man died in this house. He slashed his wrists in the bathroom. His friends tried everything to revive him, but nothing worked. Everything they had planned on doing together, which was a lot, by the way, was foiled because they couldn't see past their friend's suicide." Enjolras explained and Grantaire stared back in alarm. "The friends worked hard to be sure that this bathroom was never touched or changed in anyway after that day. Other than, you know, cleaning up the blood." Enjolras finished and worked his jaw as if to continue, but said nothing more as he stared at Grantaire.

"Are you going to open the door?" Grantaire asked him finally and Enjolras inhaled deeply before opening the door and motioning for Grantaire to enter. He did so and winced, catching himself on the sink. Enjolras whimpered, but stayed silent as Grantaire walked to where the dead man once sat. Grantaire inhaled sharply as he gripped his head and Enjolras stepped forward, but Grantaire held his hand out to stop him. "No, no, it's okay. Just…shut the door?" Grantaire asked.

"Definitely not." Enjolras stared at him in disgust and Grantaire gave him a tired glance.

"I'm not going to kill myself with you standing right outside the door." Still, Enjolras remained motionless. "Fine, come in if you have to, just shut the damn door." Grantaire grumbled and Enjolras did as he was told. "Get in the tub." Grantaire motioned over his shoulder and Enjolras narrowed his eyes, but obeyed. Enjolras sat behind Grantaire and watched as Grantaire sighed, shutting his eyes and then opening them. They were completely blank.

"Grantaire?" Enjolras called in alarm and watched as Grantaire reached over to the sink and grabbed at nothing. Then, Grantaire turned his wrists over and stared down at them. A single tear fell onto Grantaire's cheek as he held his hand as if he was holding a knife and then Enjolras gasped out a sob, wrapping his arms around Grantaire from behind. "Okay, Grantaire. It's okay, please stop. You don't have to remember, you don't have to, I promise. Just stop." Enjolras begged, shaking Grantaire slightly as if trying to wake him up. Grantaire blinked and his eyes cleared, seemingly normal once more. Enjolras climbed out of the tub and knelt over Grantaire, holding his cheeks in his hands as he stared him in the eyes. "I'm so sorry. Please, please…" Enjolras was sobbing as Grantaire placed his hands on Enjolras's shoulders.

"Please what, Apollo?" Grantaire questioned and Enjolras collapsed into Grantaire's arms, still weeping. "Hey, hey. It’s okay. I'll never do that again." Grantaire hugged him back as Enjolras shook with a death grip on Grantaire's shirt.

"You were so broken." Enjolras whimpered and Grantaire shushed him gently. "And I never saw it. At least, not clearly, for what it was." Enjolras looked up to Grantaire with pleading eyes. "I just wanted you to understand. I fought hard for that. So hard. But you still don't understand." Enjolras sat up, wiping his eyes as his voice deepened like he was trying to stop crying. "And I don't understand why. What more could I have done to convince you that you were worth the world to our cause?" Enjolras gripped Grantaire's hand and pressed his own lips together. "To me. Because without you, we can't…we can't fix whatever it is we're still here to fix. The world needs saving, Grantaire. And for that, it needs you." Enjolras's eyes were still blurry as he practically leaned into Grantaire's lap. With opened mouth, Grantaire wrapped his arms around Enjolras and held him close, rocking him slightly as they both silently cried themselves out.


	5. Same Old Lonliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac and Combeferre wake up to argue followed by Enjolras and Grantaire arguing about the case. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of sex, murder, PTSD, and (if you look closely) implied drug use.  
> ANNOUNCEMENT: 'Heaven's Grief' is up as a prequel to part four of the Centuries series.

_"I can move mountains, I can work a miracle_

_Keep you like an oath_

_May nothing but death do us part."_

_-"Uma Thurman" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New Rochelle, New York**

When Courfeyrac woke up, he smiled, seeing Combeferre asleep beside him. Courfeyrac knew not to move. Combeferre's level of insomnia refused to allow him to fall asleep or stay asleep, so any jostling would wake him immediately, which would make him very grumpy. Courfeyrac stared at the ceiling for a while and finally heard the front door slam. Combeferre jumped up out of bed and looked around furiously. Courfeyrac handed him his glasses, raising an eyebrow at the view of his naked boyfriend.

"What time is it?" Combeferre asked.

"Noon." Courfeyrac replied and Combeferre cursed. "What?" Courfeyrac asked. "Come back to bed."

"Courfeyrac, I told you to wake me up." Combeferre snapped and pulled his clothes on.

"I don't remember that." Courfeyrac replied.

"You sure as hell responded." Combeferre snapped and Courfeyrac blinked.

"You said that I'd tire you out."

"And that you'd need to wake me up so I could get back to work." Combeferre reminded and Courfeyrac made a face.

"I thought you were just being sexy?" Courfeyrac claimed and Combeferre rolled his eyes.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Combeferre commented as he fixed his hair and then went to pull his shoes on. "Hopefully there's no traffic otherwise I'll be late for work."

"Well, at that point you can just blame traffic."

"Not in New York, Courf." Combeferre rushed out of the house, waving to Enjolras and Grantaire who had been the ones to wake him.

Courfeyrac frowned, but put his hair in the aforementioned ponytail before exiting his room to see Enjolras and Grantaire working on the case. Grantaire smiled at him.

"Have fun?" Grantaire asked and Courfeyrac made a face.

"'Ferre was a little distracted."

"Oh, please, spare the details." Enjolras narrowed his eyes and Grantaire chuckled.

"Didn't you say you were gay?" Grantaire asked, leaning back in his chair and drinking the soda that was in front of him. Enjolras had informed him that he wasn't allowed to have alcohol if he was going to live under this roof. Grantaire made a note to find a new home.

"Yeah, but that's a rather broad term." Enjolras commented as he flipped through his papers and Grantaire waited for an explanation as Courfeyrac turned on the TV. Enjolras gave his friend a look, but Courfeyrac gave a challenging look in return. Enjolras stood and headed to the kitchen, motioning for Grantaire to follow.

"Meaning?" Grantaire asked when he realized that Enjolras wasn't going to explain.

"I'm homoromantic, which means romantically attracted to the same sex. However, I am asexual, meaning that I do not like sex."

"You don't like sex." Grantaire narrowed his eyes.

"No."

"You have lived for two hundred years and you've never liked any form of sex?"

"I haven't tried as often as you're implying." Enjolras responded, opening the file again to write something down.

"Maybe you're just having the wrong kind?" Grantaire suggested and Enjolras rolled his eyes.

"Please, drop the subject. I'm not interested, never have been. You should know that." Enjolras pointed out and Grantaire shrugged.

"What _is_ your cause at this point, Enjolras?" Grantaire asked randomly and Enjolras stared for a few seconds.

"Um. Ultimately, I don't know why we're still here. Since Combeferre believes that we all need to fulfill some need we had within our first...life...I'm thinking that a lot of us need to save an oppressed group of people."

"But, I'm one person."

"Yes."

"So?"

"So, I need you to get through this all, Grantaire. I _need_ you. I don't know what the official cause will be, but for now...I'm mainly fighting for gay rights, I guess." Enjolras finished and Grantaire nodded with raised eyebrows. After a few quiet seconds, Enjolras cleared his throat. "Okay, so we've ruled out witnesses, psychotic breaks, self defense and drunkenness. Grantaire, please. Can you tell me exactly what happened?" Enjolras put down the pen and looked Grantaire in the eye. Grantaire stared back intensely.

"We were in the cabin. I was trying to sleep, they were drinking. One came over and asked me to join in the festivities, so I shot him. Then I shot the other two." Grantaire explained.

"But no one saw you."

"No."

"You did it."

"Yes."

"Why, Grantaire? Why did you shoot them?" Enjolras begged.

"Because I didn't like what they were doing."

"Drinking?" Enjolras raised an eyebrow and Grantaire shrugged, biting his nail as he traced patterns on the kitchen table. "Come on, Grantaire, think. I was pressuring you this morning. I was annoying you. You didn't like what I was doing. You still didn't turn around and attack me."

"Lucky you." Grantaire muttered.

"What are you hiding?" Enjolras pleaded and Grantaire looked up at him.

"How about this. Not a psychotic break, but PTSD." Grantaire suggested.

"Isn't that the same-"

"No. PTSD is an anxiety disorder. After living through a moment when your life is at risk, you can relive those moments with certain triggers. I don't like being touched unexpectedly."

"Today, when I was in the bathtub-"

"This is a way you can defend me, Enjolras. I'm not saying it's the truth."

"What is the truth?" Enjolras asked.

"Not easily proven." Grantaire stated and then winced as Enjolras smiled.

"I can do it."

"Yeah, yeah, Daredevil. What can't you do?"

"Tell me."

"No. You'll try to use it."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"It won't work."

"Prove it."

"No. I don't have to prove anything."

"That's true, the prosecution has the burden of proof." Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "Instead of you having committed the crime at all, how about we make them prove it?"

"Easy. There were gunshots. Soldiers ran in. The gun was in my hand and there were dead soldiers on the floor." Grantaire explained and Enjolras's shoulders slumped.

"Enjolras, in all honesty, they were drinking and I didn't like them. The drinking made their awful personalities worse, so I shot them."

"Nobody's going to believe that a soldier shot other soldiers because the soldiers were mean." Enjolras stated and Grantaire held his hands out as if to show that he had proven his point. Enjolras gave him a snide glance and then placed his hand on Grantaire's arm. Grantaire scooted it away. "What did they do that hurt your feelings, Grantaire?" Enjolras questioned sarcastically and Grantaire rolled his eyes, sighing as he stood. "Where are you going?"

"Out." Grantaire responded and Enjolras glared.

"I'm coming."

"No, you're not. Catch up with Courfeyrac and leave me alone. I'll be home by dinner." Grantaire decided and Enjolras groaned, choosing to work from the PTSD angle as suggested.

When Grantaire returned, Enjolras was still working and Courfeyrac was eating takeout. Grantaire rolled his eyes at them and went to his room, but not before Enjolras could see his red eyes, shaky hands and smell the stench willowing in after him.


	6. Sunset in My Veins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's tired and fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insomnia, drug use, referenced rape if you look carefully, and PTSD mentioned.  
> I figured that since it's New Year's and all that I'd post an extra chapter again. Today, I just finished this section of the series, so I'll be able to post on time every weekend until May, which is when the next section will start! (Unless something drastic happens in which I would be away from my phone and computer, but is still extremely unlikely)

_"All of your flaws are aligned with this mood of mine  
Cutting me to the bone, nothing left to leave behind."_

_-"Irresistible" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New Rochelle, New York**

The following day by noon, Joly and Grantaire were still asleep. Joly was understandable because he got home later than expected and Combeferre was expected to have slept for the same reasons, but he hadn't slept since the day before with Courfeyrac. Quietly, Enjolras asked for enough details to know that Combeferre hadn't gotten more than three hours of sleep the day before. Knowing he was just as bad with his five hours of sleep that night, Enjolras let Courfeyrac scold Combeferre, which turned into a fight, which turned into Courfeyrac slamming the door on his way out of the house. "He's right, you know. We both need more sleep." Enjolras commented carefully and was cursed at rather colorfully, so he kept his mouth shut after that.

Combeferre's phone went off and he picked up within the first ring. "Hello?"

"Hey." Javert replied and Combeferre glanced at Enjolras, whose head was buried in a book.

"Hey, what's up?"

"I found Fantine. Illegal immigrant who's been in a coma ever since she came over the border fifteen years ago. She had a daughter who died in the same car crash that put her in the coma." Javert explained and Combeferre sighed.

"Who's paying for the stay?" Combeferre continued.

"The government, I guess." Javert responded.

"Then where ..." Combeferre stopped as he realized what this meant. Valjean hadn't saved Cosette. Was Valjean even alive? Was Combeferre's previous theory disproved so easily? "Okay. Thank you." Combeferre finished.

"What does this mean?"

"Later. Good luck finding him." Combeferre answered and could hear Javert start to voice his confusion, but then stop.

"Someone's there and you don't want them to know."

"Yes."

"You should tell them. Nobody should be denied this information." Javert responded.

"It's not your life on the line." Combeferre responded and at that, Enjolras looked up. "I'll see you." Combeferre hung up before Javert could answer.

"Who's life's not on the line?" Enjolras asked.

"Javert." Combeferre replied simply and turned back to his laptop, typing furiously, but if Enjolras had looked closer, he would've seen Combeferre typing out nonsense on a blank page.

"Any news?" Enjolras asked.

"No." Combeferre decided and stood. "I'm going to bed." He left the room and Enjolras stared after him with raised eyebrows before standing and heading off to Grantaire's room to see if the man was awake yet.

Inside, he saw Grantaire staring up at the ceiling with blank eyes. Enjolras bolted forward to jostle Grantaire, who scooted away from him. "What the heck?" Grantaire asked and Enjolras forced himself to breathe. Breathe in nasty air.

"What's wrong with you, huh? Are you drunk or high?" Enjolras snapped and Grantaire stared back at him through squinted eyes as he ground his teeth together.

"The second one. I think." Grantaire burped and Enjolras pushed him off the bed.

"How dare you?" Enjolras snapped and Grantaire looked around, seeming confused as to how he got on the floor. "I'm trying to get your case acquitted and you're out getting high?" Enjolras boomed and Grantaire moaned, covering his ears. Enjolras leaned down to tear Grantaire's hands off his ears. "No, you listen to me, I'm talking to you. Where do you keep it? The stash?" Enjolras demanded and Grantaire shook his head, but indirectly looked at the underside of his bed. Enjolras glanced from Grantaire to the bed and dove under just as Grantaire grabbed at him, trying to pull him back out. Enjolras felt around under the bed on the floor and then tried the frame of the bed to find a packet of powder.

Struggling out of Grantaire's reach, Enjolras took the packet and tossed it into the toilet, flushing it conclusively. Grantaire cursed at him through moans and Enjolras gritted his teeth. He filled a large cup of water by the sink and then tossed it over Grantaire's head. Grantaire went flying up, roaring after Enjolras. "Get off your ass and fix this mess!" Enjolras snarled. "After all I've done to help you, this is how you repay me?"

"All you've done? All you've done is bring back painful memories of love and death, Enjolras! Another two pointless lives as if the first wasn't enough!" Grantaire growled, taking Enjolras by the collar of his shirt and shaking him.

"None of your lives have been anything near pointless." Enjolras barked back, shoving Grantaire off of him.

"Yeah? This from the god of ideality! Everything you do, Apollo, is to further some unrealistic dream of yours. Think about it, you wouldn't have even bothered taking my case if you thought Markson could've gotten me acquitted."

"Well, no, that was the point of me taking your damn case!" Enjolras shouted back. "Do you want to go to jail? No drugs or alcohol there, Grantaire, though I'm sure they'll comply with your sexual tendencies!" Enjolras hissed.

"And what's the point of my acquittal, huh? Having me further your cause? One that you don't even know about yet? Guess what, Enjolras, I haven't changed and I won't by then either! Everything you do is for your bloody cause, one that, don't really hate to break it to you, isn't going to amount to anything more than deaths of all your friends. At least the ones who can die. The rest will be left with the memories of their friends dying, furthering their PTSD. Combeferre's insomnia? Where do you think that comes from? Courfeyrac's disillusionment? Eponine's cynicism? I know for a fact that she used to be a playful flower prancing along after Marius, so what happened to her? You're a selfish pig who cares for nobody's emotions unless they're in his way! Even then, half the time, you just bulldoze through them, still! C'est quoi ce bordel? Que est... the point of fighting against an enemy you don't know for a cause you don't yet understand? And what do you think I'm going to do for it?"

At this point, both men were breathing roughly. Grantaire's eyes were still jerking around the room, though he seemed surprisingly well held together. Enjolras stared in wounded disbelief at Grantaire's words as he breathed deeply.

"Enjolras." They heard Combeferre's voice and Grantaire snapped out of it, turning to go to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it. Enjolras continued to stare though his gaze hardened as he thought about what Grantaire had said. Combeferre stepped forward and took Enjolras's hand, leading him back into the kitchen. "Don't try to reason with someone high on drugs."

"Is it true?" Enjolras asked him and Combeferre stared, giving Enjolras a soft, but questioning glance. "Did my revolution make you an insomniac?"

"It's not all about you, Enjolras. My death made it difficult for me to sleep, but I'm no insomniac. And it wasn't your revolution. Gosh, could you imagine what Feuilly would say if he heard you spouting off that nonsense?" Combeferre stopped himself from continuing on a rampage as he continued handing Enjolras a cup of water and working on hotdogs. They were both silent, listening to nothing but the microwave work its magic.

Eventually, Grantaire stepped into the kitchen where Enjolras was staring blankly at the hotdogs in front of him and Combeferre was gulping his back. "I'm sorry."

"You meant what you said. Don't apologize." Enjolras instructed him without looking up, though sounding sincere. He sighed and finally looked at Grantaire, who was staring vulnerably in the doorway. "Just. Why did you bother coming back home if you can't stand me?" Enjolras asked and Grantaire sniffed.

"Don't put words in my mouth, Enjolras. There's no part of you that I can't stand." Grantaire sat down and took one of Enjolras's hotdogs. It was getting cold.

"You said-"

"Yeah, and its sickening that I could still love you through all of that, huh? But, that's not on you; it's on me." Grantaire finished, trying to hide the red on his face after uttering the word 'love'. Enjolras noticed and stayed silent, looking back down to the plate with one remaining hotdog on it. "Say something." Grantaire whispered.

"I don't know what to say." Enjolras concluded and Grantaire stood.

"If you come back with drugs, I'm calling the police and then you'll never get acquitted." Combeferre called after him as he exited the house.


	7. Novocaine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire and Enjolras make up, Combeferre and Courfeyrac don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alcoholism and apathy mentioned.

_"I'm in the details with the devil_  
_So now the world can never get me on my level_  
_I just gotta get you off the cage_  
_I'm a young lover's rage_  
_Gonna need a spark to ignite"_

_-"My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New Rochelle, New York**

"Two beers." Enjolras sat down beside Grantaire who was playing with a cup of water.

"What are you doing here?" Grantaire muttered.

"I figured I'd find you here. I wanted to apologize for getting angry at you when you weren't to blame." Enjolras informed him and Grantaire stared back at him. The bartender placed the beers in front of them. "And I'd like to understand further why you are upset with me." Enjolras suggested and Grantaire sighed.

"That's why." Grantaire responded and Enjolras thought this through.

"My request?" Enjolras suggested warily.

"You're so…perfect. It's annoying and hard to stay angry with. You make me feel guilty." Grantaire explained and Enjolras tilted his head.

"Well, that was kind of the plan." Enjolras remarked. "I was beginning to think it wasn't a good one, but you haven't touched that beer." Enjolras gave a smirk at his own joke, but Grantaire just sighed.

"I'm tired of fighting." He responded and Enjolras waited for an explanation. "I know I deserve the sentence. I know that I don't deserve you. I know that alcoholism and drugs…" He held up the beer. "Are in my blood." With a small toast to Enjolras, he took a gulp.

"You deserve me. If not better." Enjolras responded and saw Grantaire look away from him. "Hey, look at me." Enjolras turned Grantaire's face toward him and Grantaire pushed him away. "Do you remember what Combeferre said all those years ago? There's a reason you're here. We had guessed that you had thought that you had to die without me to stop your resurrections. That didn't work. Instead, maybe you're supposed to help me." Enjolras suggested and saw tears welling up in Grantaire's glaring eyes. "The first time through, we died together. You chose dying with me over life without me. Maybe you need to be the person you died as. Passionate and decisive." Enjolras finished and watched as Grantaire's scowl turned to fear as Grantaire reached forward and hugged Enjolras. Enjolras furrowed his eyebrows together and used his hands to ask the bartender how many drinks Grantaire had had. The answer was a remarkable zero.

"Why are you going to all this work for me?" Grantaire whimpered as Enjolras rubbed his back.

"Maybe you should think about that. Love isn't portrayed in one way, the Grantaire way." Enjolras remarked and Grantaire pulled away to look him in the eye.

"Nor is it anywhere near the same kind of love." Grantaire muttered out, looking away from Enjolras, who sighed in defeat. Still, they headed back home together after paying for their drinks that had been left mostly full.

When they entered the house, Enjolras dodged a book being thrown across the room. "Screw you!" Combeferre shouted.

"That's not what you said the other day!" Courfeyrac screeched back.

"Get out!" Combeferre responded as Enjolras and Grantaire entered the room, seeing Courfeyrac with tears on his cheeks and Combeferre with broken glasses.

"It's my house, too! You get out!"

"I actually pay for it!" Combeferre hissed and Courfeyrac went for what clearly was another punch, but Combeferre blocked it.

"I hate you!" Courfeyrac announced and Combeferre pushed him away.

"The feeling's mutual." Combeferre responded and Courfeyrac gasped, his bottom lip wobbling before he rushed out of the house.

"Ever entered a building on fire?" Grantaire asked in the sudden silence and Enjolras glanced at him. "I have. That's what it feels like." Grantaire explained and headed off to his own room. Enjolras let him go, figuring that he'd have more success in solving Combeferre's relational problems than Grantaire's mental ones.

First, Enjolras dialed up Eponine and had her find Courfeyrac to comfort him in whatever way possible. Then, he dished out some hotdogs and tea, placing it all out in front of Combeferre, who hadn't lifted his head out of his hands. Enjolras sat beside his friend and thought through the fact that Courfeyrac was the most physical one of them and Combeferre was upset with him. Enjolras didn't hug Combeferre.

Combeferre still hadn't moved. At all.

Finally, Enjolras sighed. "Beer?" He suggested and Combeferre grunted. "Or, um, museums?" Enjolras offered and Combeferre groaned, taking his hand away long enough to grab a hotdog and take a bite.

"He's too clingy." Combeferre informed Enjolras.

"I know."

"I'm not physical in my relationships with anyone."

"Yes."

"It became too awkward." Combeferre finished.

"And?" Enjolras pressured and Combeferre sighed, lifting his head to take a sip of tea. He rubbed his eyes and inspected his glasses before putting them down on the coffee table.

"He informed me that I was unhealthy with my life decisions. I pointed out that he was one of those decisions. He tried to laugh it off. I told him our relationship wasn't working. He informed me that it was my fault because I was, and I quote 'a robot in 'Ferre skins'." When Enjolras smirked, Combeferre glanced at him, so Enjolras forced a straight face. "Logically, our personalities have grown so extreme that we've become incompatible."

"I understand."

"You're just telling me what you think I want to hear."

"No. I think you want to hear me curse at you and tell you that you've made a horrible decision because then you could escape and go live like a monk. I'm not going to do that because that's not a good idea. You need human interaction or else you'll turn into a computer." Enjolras commented and Combeferre turned to glare at him. "When presented with an issue, you view it logically. That's just what you've always done. And now, you have logically subtracted Courfeyrac from the equation that makes you plus x equal happy." Enjolras stood. "I just hope your math adds up." Enjolras stared down at him for a few more seconds, seeing that Combeferre's robotic expression had returned. "It's healthy to let it all out sometimes, Combeferre." Enjolras informed him and was ignored as Combeferre attempted to fix his glasses.

When Enjolras headed off for Grantaire's room, he stopped to see that Grantaire was in the kitchen instead, looking over the remainder of Enjolras's notes. "So I memorize this?" Grantaire asked when he saw Enjolras standing there.

"Does it work?" Enjolras requested and Grantaire shrugged.

"I'm not seeing any obvious holes. Anyway, you're the attorney."

"True." Enjolras took the file and put it aside. Grantaire stared up at him with raised eyebrows and Enjolras blushed at their proximity, backing away slightly as he sat down beside Grantaire. "Let's focus on happier things." Enjolras suggested and Grantaire blinked, waiting for that to be explained. "Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Eponine and I will be saying speeches at the Museum Mile Festival about gay rights-"

"Happier." Grantaire groaned, shoving his face in his hands as he considered whether to laugh or cry at Enjolras's perception of happiness.

"Don't be rude." Enjolras commented and Grantaire had to chuckle at that, though Enjolras seemed to think he was crying because he practically threw himself at Grantaire, hugging him close.

"What are you doing, you dork?" Grantaire asked and Enjolras peered over Grantaire's shoulder to see that Grantaire was smiling.

"Focusing on happier things." Enjolras decided and Grantaire rolled his eyes, giving him that one. Together, they worked through the speech's details.


	8. Pitch Black Streets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac and Gavroche comfort each other while Combeferre, Enjolras and Eponine revive Javert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of suicide by poison, induced vomiting, and minor character child death.

_"Don't you know that the kids aren't alright_  
_I'll be yours_  
_When it rains it pours_  
_Stay thirsty like before"_

_-"Kids Aren't Alright" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New Rochelle, New York**

As Courfeyrac flipped through TV channels, he heard the window beside him slide open and he jumped up with a screech. There, sopping wet from the rain, sat Gavroche. "Most people just knock." Courfeyrac suggested, but Gavroche held his hands out. In response, Courfeyrac stepped forward and pulled Gavroche into his arms, carrying him back to the bathroom.

Before entering the bathroom, he knocked on Grantaire's door. "Grantaire?" He called.

"Yes?" Grantaire responded.

"Just making sure you weren't in the bathroom." Courfeyrac continued on, not hearing the string of curse words that Grantaire yelled back through the door once the connection had been made in his mind.

Courfeyrac drew a warm bath for Gavroche and brought him some clean, though oversized clothes. Gavroche had pulled the bath curtains shut by the time Courfeyrac returned, so Courfeyrac didn't pry. Instead, he texted Eponine that her brother was home. Gavroche was AWOL so often nowadays that Eponine took every opportunity to see him.

Finally, Gavroche returned to the living room with a spoon to share Courfeyrac's ice cream. They finished the movie that Courfeyrac had found and finally, Courfeyrac sighed. "Combeferre and I broke up."

"Where is he?" Gavroche muttered into the blanket they had wrapped around them.

"At a museum with Enjolras."

"What's the point in going to a museum when you belong in one?" Gavroche muttered and Courfeyrac grunted. "I didn't think museums were open this late."

"Well, they either gave Combeferre a key or they're not really at the museum." Courfeyrac informed the boy, who raised his eyebrows in agreement.

"My brothers are dead. Again." Gavroche informed Courfeyrac, who winced.

"I'm sorry." Courfeyrac wrapped his arms around Gavroche, who pushed him away. Courfeyrac took no offense, knowing that this boy was less physical than his sister was.

"Where's my sister staying these days?" Gavroche asked, seeming to be trying to make conversation.

"The city. Closer to Fort Hamilton."

"That's where she...works?" Gavroche guessed and Courfeyrac smirked with a nod at the boy.

Grantaire appeared and sat down in the armchair. They all stared at each other for a moment. "Who's the kid?" Grantaire asked finally.

"Gavroche. Don't you remember him?" Courfeyrac asked.

"Please, he was drunk or asleep whenever I saw him." Gavroche replied and Grantaire nodded, pressing his lips together.

"But last time-"

"Last time, he killed himself. He was probably a little preoccupied in that moment." Gavroche interrupted and Grantaire winced. "Speaking of, when did you guys move? Took me a bit of time to relocate you all."

"Sixty years ago. Enjolras kept breaking down into nervous…sweats." Courfeyrac realized halfway through that sentence that finishing it was not a good idea. Grantaire and Courfeyrac didn't break eye contact for a while as Gavroche sighed and left the room, claiming to be looking for alcohol. They didn't normally stop him since his brain cells couldn't die and he had lived long enough to stop any kind of habit forming. However, with Grantaire here, alcohol was not going to be easy to find.

"You are slowly losing status as my favorite human being." Grantaire informed Courfeyrac, who shrugged in self-defeat.

"Enjolras?" Courfeyrac asked.

"Enjolras is a godlike Cassandra." Grantaire remarked, seeming preoccupied by whatever Gavroche was doing in the kitchen.

"Whatever." Courfeyrac didn't understand, nor did he care to.

"Found it!" Gavroche announced and Grantaire gave Courfeyrac a snarky smirk before standing and joining the child in the kitchen.

The front door banged open and Courfeyrac jumped up to see Eponine carting what appeared to be a dead body into the house. "Really?" Courfeyrac commented, but helped Eponine in.

"I didn't know where else to go. I really don't know what to do in this situation. Have any of us died again before?" Eponine babbled and Courfeyrac attempted to make sense of that. When he saw Javert's face on the corpse, he understood.

"Um, Enjolras has. Hold on, let me call them."

"Nerds aren't here?" Eponine asked in disbelief.

"Not with all that's been happening." Courfeyrac replied, shutting the front door so they wouldn't have to continue yelling over the storm outside. "Grantaire, take Gavroche to your room. And don't let him get too drunk please. Remember he's smaller than you are."

"Which sucks. I could drink like a grown man if it weren't for the fact that my blood-alcohol content would be through the roof. Just because I'm small. I wish I could grow up." Gavroche babbled to Grantaire as Grantaire covered his eyes while passing through the living room.

"He's not answering." Courfeyrac informed Eponine, who stood and headed halfway down the hall before yelling.

"Grantaire, call Enjolras and tell him to get here! It's an emergency!" She announced.

"Do I have to?" Grantaire complained, clearly thinking only of the alcohol in his stomach.

"Yes!" Eponine shouted back and they heard grumbling before Grantaire answered that he would call Enjolras.

Grantaire appeared in the hallway to observe as he called Enjolras. "Hey. No, we've got an emergency dead guy who's supposedly not going to stay dead, which I guess you did once? Anyway, what do we do?" They stared at Grantaire and waited. "Am not! Yet." Grantaire called and Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. "M'kay. Sure. No, not really." Grantaire concluded. "Hello?" Grantaire took the phone away from his ear and looked at it before shrugging.

"Pretty sure he's on his way. He hung up on me."

"After you told him that you'd be getting drunk tonight." Courfeyrac added and Grantaire furrowed his eyebrows before nodding. "Go sit with Gavroche."

"Nah, he's a noisy drunk. And asleep." They didn't bother pointing out the fault in that statement. Grantaire plopped down on the couch, moving Javert's feet out of the way. "So, we're both soldiers. How are you not freaking out about this?" He asked Courfeyrac, whose eyes turned old. Grantaire shut his mouth and looked down before changing the subject.

"Why are you not at work?" Grantaire asked Eponine, who looked up to him in confusion.

"I took the month off." She informed him and he raised his eyebrows in surprise, but found nothing more to say on the subject.

A few minutes later, Enjolras came pounding into the house with Combeferre shortly behind him. Combeferre took the dead man's pulse and checked his airways for obstacles. "How did this happen?" Enjolras asked, wrapping a blanket around the man.

"Poison." Combeferre answered. "When did you find him?"

"A half hour ago? He was in the alleyway when I drove up to your house."

"This is a cry for help." Enjolras announced and Courfeyrac winced, giving Enjolras a confused glance. "Think about it. He's been out of state, hasn't he?" Enjolras looked to Combeferre, who nodded as he kept his stethoscope against Javert's heart, waiting for it to restart. "Why would he come back all this way just to die in the same neighborhood as his family?"

"He's not _my_  family." Eponine snapped and Enjolras gave her a look. They were all family.

"Yeah, well, you don't pick your family, do you?" Combeferre questioned. "Courf, initiate CPR, please." He requested, glancing at Courfeyrac over his glasses.

Courfeyrac huffed. "Yeah, right." He stood and exited the room.

"You people are despicable." Eponine remarked and performed CPR as was requested. "What's the point in this? He's been dead for several hours." Eponine pointed out.

"He's cold." Enjolras remarked as he took Javert's pulse.

"He's going to wake up. We always do." Combeferre responded and Eponine gasped quietly as she looked up at the man, who was still waiting for a heartbeat.

"How long did I take last time?" Enjolras asked and Combeferre shrugged, shaking his head.

"You woke up on the coroner's table." Combeferre replied and Eponine wrinkled her nose.

"Then what's the point in doing this?" Eponine asked, stopping to catch her breath.

"Keep going!" Combeferre demanded and Eponine jumped back into action. "We've got to get him breathing that way we can induce vomiting. He's not stupid; he thought this through. With our deaths, we normally die and then our body heals itself. It's healing itself now, but then the poison reworks its magic again. If we get him awake when he heals-" He was cut off by Javert's gasp for breath. "Enjolras, get some salt, mix it with water. Eponine, help me carry Javert into the bathroom."

In the bathroom, Combeferre shoved his fingers down Javert's throat as Javert tried to push him away. "Hold him down." Combeferre instructed Eponine, who did as she was told. Javert began dry heaving and Combeferre leaned the man over the toilet as Enjolras entered the bathroom with the saltwater.

Javert managed to vomit some of the poison up, but then he leaned back as if trying to stop himself from vomiting. Combeferre took the saltwater from Enjolras and forced it down Javert's throat. With that, Eponine grunted and stood, leaving the room as Javert continued barfing.

"Keep it coming, Angé." Combeferre called and Enjolras obeyed, grabbing the salt from the kitchen and using it to refill the glass every time it was emptied either by Javert's struggles or Combeferre's successes.

By the end of the hour, Javert's heart was beating steadily. Combeferre had passed out on the couch and Enjolras figured it was best to put Javert in Joly's room since Joly wasn't there and didn't keep war instruments in his room.

Enjolras checked on Courfeyrac to see him wrapped around a full body pillow as he whimpered in his sleep. Grantaire and Gavroche were wrapped up together on Grantaire's bed while Eponine sat on the floor, her eyes never shutting. Enjolras knew better than to offer her his own bed. She would never sleep with her brother so near that she could savor the time spent with him.

Enjolras placed the silent alarm on Javert's door, the one that he had bought shortly after discovering that Grantaire was going to live with them again. It would go off in Enjolras's room to inform him that the door had opened. Then, he entered his own room, where he read rather than attempted sleep. 


	9. Infrared Scope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre is diagnosed by all with depression and diagnoses Grantaire with PTSD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attempted suicide by empty gun, depression, description of PTSD.

_"Are all the good times getting gone?  
They come and go and go and come and go"_

_-"27" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New Rochelle, New York**

" _Get up_!" Enjolras woke the next morning to hearing Combeferre screaming and cursing at someone, and the silent alarm going off. Enjolras raced out of his room and into Joly's, where the noise was coming from. Combeferre had ripped the blankets off of Javert, who had his head in his hands as he shook slightly. "What’s wrong with you, you coward? Why can't you do this one thing right? Huh? Why do all of you keep trying to die when its obviously not going to work!" Combeferre spat as Enjolras tried to pull him away.

"Combeferre, Combeferre!" Enjolras got in between Combeferre and Javert, kneeling on the bed as he shook Combeferre by the lapels of his robe. Finally, Combeferre's blurred eyes connected with Enjolras's clarity and he leaned his forehead against Enjolras's as he breathed roughly.

"Stop dying." Combeferre demanded.

"What the hell?" They heard Joly behind Combeferre and Enjolras helped Combeferre out of the room after telling Joly to check on Javert.

Enjolras practically carried Combeferre into his own room before Combeferre struggled out of Enjolras's arms and began pacing the floor. Enjolras sat on his own bed, watching Combeferre with furrowed brows. "Combeferre." Enjolras called, but Combeferre didn't respond. "Combeferre?" Enjolras repeated and Combeferre cried out in anger before throwing himself under Enjolras's bed where Enjolras kept the gun. Enjolras gripped Combeferre by the legs and dragged him back out from beneath the bed. Combeferre had grabbed the gun though and aimed it to his own chest.

With each shot fired, he spoke, "why, won't, this, work?" He screamed and Enjolras glared him down, holding out his hand for the gun. Combeferre gasped out a sob before handing Enjolras the gun.

"Because the gun's empty and your determination is set." Enjolras explained. Combeferre stared back for a moment before turning to leave Enjolras's room, but Enjolras lunged at him and dragged him back inside and onto the bed, where Combeferre rolled slightly before sitting upright.

"You know, the poison idea is brilliant. We could all do that. We'd be in a constant stage of dying until our stomachs digested the poison. I bet there's a poison that the human stomach can't digest." Combeferre explained and Enjolras tilted his head as he scowled.

Combeferre moved to leave again, but Enjolras pushed him back onto the bed. Combeferre tried to fight, but Enjolras straddled him. Combeferre attempted claw his face off and Enjolras pinned his hands to the mattress. Both breathed roughly. Finally, tears gathered in Combeferre's eyes and he blinked trying to avoid eye contact with Enjolras even though Enjolras was staring directly into his eyes.

"Enjolras, make it go away." Combeferre begged and Enjolras got off of him. "There's…" Combeferre made a strangled noise. "There's so much pain, Enjolras. I tried to make it go away, but it didn't work. I can't do it. Do it for me, please."

"Robotic 'Ferre doesn't stop the pain. It simply files it away until the file is full and then it explodes." Enjolras explained and Combeferre sighed before reaching over and wrapping his arms around Enjolras as he sobbed quietly with the occasional strangled squeak as though he were trying to stay silent. "I've got you. It's okay. It's okay." Enjolras soothed and rocked Combeferre in his arms slightly.

Eventually, Combeferre was asleep. At least, that's what Enjolras thought until he saw that Combeferre's eyes were open. "I'll be right back, okay?" Enjolras informed him and he didn't react. Enjolras pressed his lips together and kissed Combeferre's temple before emerging from the bedroom and keeping the gun with him.

In the living room, Grantaire was sitting with Courfeyrac, playing video games. "Where's Javert?" Enjolras asked.

"Joly took him somewhere. He didn't say where, but said it was therapy." Courfeyrac explained.

"And he says to check your phone." Grantaire finished for Courfeyrac.

"Grantaire, you have a court date in a week. Be ready. We're going over it later today." Enjolras instructed and Grantaire nodded. Enjolras went to his own room and checked his phone to see that Joly had signed them all up for therapy classes. With him or Combeferre. Enjolras rolled his eyes, but accepted it.

On the bed, Combeferre was pretending to be asleep. "I will be out in the living room with Grantaire. We could use your help when you're awake." Enjolras explained and Combeferre didn't respond other than to stop faking snoring.

First, Enjolras made coffee for all three of them. Then, he turned off the TV and asked Courfeyrac for help. "Okay, so court presentation." Enjolras began. Courfeyrac's phone buzzed and he picked it up.

"Yep? Right, yeah, we figured. Does he want saving yet? Okay. Well, I guess he'll call." Courfeyrac finished. "Okay, bye." Enjolras stared blankly, waiting for an explanation. "Eponine says that she's taking Gavroche to the zoo."

"Court presentation." Enjolras repeated, sounding slightly less confident. "I'm assuming that Courfeyrac will be dressing you."

"Yay!" Courfeyrac shrieked.

"I can dress myself." Grantaire gave them both a look.

"Did you dress yourself last time?" Enjolras asked and Grantaire thought back to the last time he had been in court.

"No, actually, the guards did." Grantaire remarked, Enjolras rolled his eyes as Courfeyrac pouted, and Grantaire sighed in defeat.

"Why go to the doctor's office? Can't we have Combeferre diagnose him with PTSD?" Courfeyrac questioned, looking through Enjolras's files.

"It can't be Combeferre; he's too close to the situation. We have an appointment later today." Enjolras informed Grantaire, who raised an eyebrow, but remained unimpressed.

"Now, look me in the eye." Enjolras requested and Grantaire looked up, bored. Enjolras stared back, but then blinked, sitting up straight. "You waived prelim!" He announced as if this had only just occurred to him, a look of disgust plain on his face. 

"I did what now?" Grantaire furrowed his eyebrows.

"Were you given the option to plea not guilty?"

"I didn't ask for the option." Grantaire informed him, waiting for Enjolras to explain. Enjolras began muttering things to himself and Grantaire chose to ignore it when he heard the words 'Markson' and 'idiot' come shortly after one another. Finally, Enjolras came back on track, sighing.

"Convince me with your appearance that you are suffering from PTSD." Grantaire laughed slightly and then stood up, walking into a wall. Enjolras stared for a moment after Grantaire fell to the floor. "Are you high?" Enjolras asked.

"I'm reliving a traumatic experience in which I walked into walls." Grantaire informed him and Enjolras rolled his eyes, throwing his head back against the couch.

"Sit still and try again." Enjolras demanded and Grantaire sighed, doing as he was told. He sat up straight, first presenting himself as a soldier and then flashing his eyes around the room, as if alert to every movement and noise surrounding him. Courfeyrac clapped.

"Perfect." Enjolras smiled and Grantaire's eyes blinked back to their normal tired selves as he gave Enjolras a smile in return.

"Are you going to have someone diagnose him? Looking like you have PTSD and being diagnosed have two different levels of credibility." Combeferre announced as he entered the room and plopped down beside Grantaire.

"Covered." Enjolras informed Combeferre and Combeferre stared Grantaire down, who sat up straight and looked around again, seeming less believable this time.

"Have you ever had a traumatic experience?"

"I was in a war." Grantaire reminded him.

"Have you ever had dreams or hallucinations in which you were still fighting in the war?" Combeferre asked him.

"Yes." Grantaire answered, staring Combeferre in the eye rather than noticing Enjolras wince and Courfeyrac silently gasp.

"Is there any particular scene you live over and over again?" Combeferre asked.

"Killing my own men." Grantaire responded and Enjolras placed his head in his hands as Combeferre cocked his head.

"Did you really kill them?" He asked.

"Yes." Grantaire started to glare, but seemed to forget why.

"Are there other scenes you relive?" Combeferre changed the subject.

"Yes."

"Were you this cynical before entering the war?" Combeferre asked and Grantaire sighed. "I'm just being sure that you'll be diagnosed as someone with PTSD rather than admitting that you don't have PTSD and having a doctor on the prosecution's side rather than defense."

"Technically, yes. But in this lifetime, no."

"Don't say that to the doctors." Enjolras instructed him.

"Could help." Courfeyrac shrugged. "He's now certifiably insane. Spending the rest of his days with Joly rather than criminals."

"No." Enjolras butted in.

"I think that's pretty much enough to verify that you have PTSD. They might ask more questions, but that's the gist of it." Combeferre informed Grantaire, who nodded.

"So, what's the verdict, doc?" Grantaire raised an eyebrow and Combeferre nodded.

"My…unofficial, untrained opinion says that you have PTSD." Combeferre concluded.


	10. Butterfly Bandage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras goes through Grantaire's case with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Description of war, mentions of PTSD.

_"Again and again 'til I'm stuck in your head_

_Had my doubts, but I let them out_

_You are the drought_

_I'm the holy water you have been without."_

_-"Fourth of July" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New Rochelle, New York**

"Now, what are your occupation and accreditations, Mr. Grantaire?" Enjolras asked.

"I'm a soldier. I was dishonorably discharged for the murder of-"

"No, you can't admit to murder on the witness stand within the first question." Enjolras interrupted and Grantaire gave him a sheepish look. "Word it differently. If this PTSD argument works, we can stay open with the information, but present it as an unfortunate accident rather than an emotionless fact." Enjolras explained.

"Dishonorably discharged for killing some people." Grantaire offered and Enjolras narrowed his eyes.

"Don't say why yet." Enjolras stated and stared at Grantaire for a few seconds as the man stared back. "Why?"

"On suspicions of murdering three American soldiers."

"And did you kill them?" Enjolras asked.

"Yes."

"Why?" Enjolras pressured and Grantaire made a face.

"Because I strongly disliked what they were doing." Grantaire explained and Enjolras pressed his lips together.

"You thought they were going to kill you." Combeferre remarked quietly and Grantaire stared the man down.

"I thought my life was in danger." Grantaire stated, looking to the floor.

"Always maintain eye contact." Courfeyrac instructed him and Grantaire looked back up to Enjolras.

"But I'm supposed to be searching for threats." Grantaire broke eye contact to look at Courfeyrac.

"And now, Enjolras is the main threat." Courfeyrac explained. Grantaire's eyes bore into Enjolras and Enjolras looked away for a second before continuing his questioning.

"Why did you think that?" Enjolras asked.

"They were drunk. I was vomiting. There was a lot going on."

"Explain that." Enjolras remarked, making a note.

"We had just killed the enemy's leader that we had been looking for for years." Grantaire explained and Enjolras stared him down.

"Is that true, Grantaire?" Enjolras asked and Grantaire glared, but nodded.

"When we got back, I immediately started vomiting. I wasn't sure why other than the fact that a lot had just happened. A big change."

"A good one?" Enjolras asked and Grantaire closed his eyes and cleared his throat.

"Yes." He croaked and Enjolras narrowed his eyes when he saw tears in Grantaire's.

"I'm not convinced." Enjolras responded delicately and Grantaire blinked again before sitting up straighter and gritting his teeth.

"This was a good change." He informed Enjolras with all certainty.

"I'm not going to ask you that." Enjolras scratched the question out. "A good change shouldn't be making you barf or have flashbacks."

"Actually, killing a person, regardless of whether or not they were intended to be killed will bring back memories." Combeferre pointed out.

"So, it's a useless question, all the same." Enjolras remarked.

"Well-"

"Are you suffering from PTSD?" Enjolras interrupted Combeferre, who gave him a look before standing and entering the kitchen.

"Yes?" Grantaire responded.

"Were you suffering from PTSD when you shot the men in your cabin?" Enjolras demanded.

"Yes." Grantaire stated with more certainty, but still questioning whether this was where Enjolras wanted him.

"What was the event that first started this onslaught of PTSD?" Enjolras demanded and Grantaire inhaled before exhaling and staring down at his hands folded together. Nobody spoke, but they listened as the clock on the wall ticked.

"My first…mission, if you will." Grantaire finally answered. "We found a supply building for the other side. Since there would be limited life damage, the rookies were taken out to… kind of get us used to things blowing up. But, after the building blew up, there was a man. He had lost a leg and had…something sticking out of his eye. Metal or something." Grantaire gulped and Courfeyrac covered his mouth. Combeferre stared blankly while Enjolras remained encouraging. "He was trying to crawl toward us. He was calling out. Most of the time, cries are easily ignored because they're in another language, Pasto or Dari. People don't like to admit this, but it does take the intimacy out of a plead. But this man was speaking English. He was clearly a soldier for al-Qaeda, with the uniform and all, but…English."

"What did he say?" Enjolras asked, seeing the tears in Grantaire's eyes begin to overflow.

"I don't remember." Grantaire informed him, sniffing and turning away to sip at his lukewarm coffee.

"Grantaire-"

"That's common in PTSD." Combeferre informed Enjolras. "They don't remember every detail of the event. Subconsciously trying to forget it."

"What triggered this memory before you killed the American soldiers in your cabin?" Enjolras demanded.

"We blew up a building." Grantaire replied and Enjolras nodded.

"Grantaire, off the record, is anything you've told me untrue?" Enjolras asked and Grantaire stared him in the eye before looking to the floor, refusing to answer. Enjolras sighed. "Fine. Is there anything you do not believe that you will be able to answer on the stand?" Enjolras asked and Grantaire shook his head without looking up. "Okay. Good enough for today."

Courfeyrac sat down on Grantaire's lap and wrapped his arms around the man. With a tired smile, Grantaire hugged him back. "Video games?" He asked and Grantaire shook his head.

"Let's watch movies." Grantaire suggested and Courfeyrac did as he was told, subtly looking for one with little to no violence. It ended up being about cars. As the opening music played, Enjolras moaned.

"Don't like this song?" Grantaire asked him with a smirk.

"After all the good music I have listened to over two hundred years, heavy metal broke my heart." Enjolras informed Grantaire, who laughed.

"I have found Enjolras's one true love, Mozart." Grantaire announced and Courfeyrac giggled.

"No." Enjolras popped.

"He claims to have a heart, Courfeyrac! Should we test that?" Grantaire turned up the music and Enjolras stood, heading off to his own room.

After the doctor's appointment, Grantaire was informed that he did have clinical post-traumatic stress disorder and was to take pills to control it. Though Enjolras seemed discomforted by the idea of pills, he seemed pleased that there was a viable solution to Grantaire's case.

Now, they had a witness with the letters M.D. at the end of his name. Now, they had a chance.


	11. Boycott Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras and Combeferre prepare for speeches, Joly prepares for Musichetta, and Combeferre and Courfeyrac talk it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of homophobia

_"How'd it get to be only me?_  
_Like I'm the last damn kid still kicking_  
_That still believes_  
_I will defend the faith_  
_Going down swinging"_

_-"Save Rock and Roll" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New Rochelle, New York**

"Okay, so. The Museum Mile Festival lasts from six to nine. We each get a fifteen minute slot; I've bought an hour. It'll go you, Courfeyrac, Eponine, me. You have three nipples. Eponine will talk about- Combeferre! Are you listening?" Enjolras finally stopped to glare at Combeferre, who sat up and looked at Enjolras.

"Do you think I could have kids?" Combeferre asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"No, it's biologically impossible for men to have children. Will you focus?" Enjolras scowled. Grantaire entered the room, looked for the alcohol that Gavroche had found earlier and frowned.

"Unless you're Zeus." Grantaire remarked, not seeming to understand nor care about where this conversation had started.

"I threw it all away. Drink Pepsi."

"Who drinks Pepsi when there's Coke?" Grantaire asked, opening the fridge and popping the lid off the Coke bottle.

"Yeah, but do you think I could be a good father?" Combeferre continued as if the conversation had never changed topics.

"That is seriously not up for debate right now. We are talking about the Museum Mile Festival. Combeferre. Get with the program." Enjolras snapped and Combeferre rolled his eyes.

"The last few days have been a bit rough, Enjolras. Cut me some slack."

"The show must go on. In three days, and you don't even have a speech written yet." Enjolras snapped and Combeferre rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, guess what, Enjolras? There'll be a Festival next year. And the next. It's not like we're getting older. I've put things on hold before for you, so relax. I'll write the speech, I'll say the speech, and everything will be fine, though nothing will change. Now, sit back, and humor me." Combeferre finished and Enjolras stared, jaw dropped as Grantaire burped.

"Why haven't you guys been working on this earlier?" Grantaire asked.

"You haven't been around often enough to know that we haven't been. Where do you think we were when Javert was dying?" Enjolras questioned and Grantaire shrugged before sitting down across from them.

"What'cha gonna talk about?" He asked.

"'Ferre's talking about gay rights, but more specifically, bisexual recognition. Eponine's talking about growing up in abusive families. Courfeyrac's talking about persistence in light of depression and I'm talking about gay rights in general to finish off."

"Have you done this before?"

"Last year."

"I'm sure the museums love you." Grantaire raised an eyebrow and Enjolras shrugged.

"They didn't turn us away. Anyway, freedom of speech and all that jazz." Enjolras began writing again.

"You know, in all honesty, I didn't know you actually cared." Grantaire countered, taking a sip of the coke and watching unimpressed as Enjolras's anger rose.

"I've been focused on other things. Namely, you."

"I'm flattered."

"Enjolras will always find something to fight for; you must have known that." Combeferre interjected.

"Yes, but I thought it was me this time around."

"I need a constant."

"And I'm finite. Thanks for the reminder."

"Hello? My problems? Courf's off being shrinked by Joly; you get to listen to me." Combeferre informed Enjolras, who put the pen down and placed his head in his hands before looking up at Combeferre with mock interest. "Like, do you think I could still reproduce?" Combeferre asked and Enjolras sighed.

"It's not like your body has to go through any changes to make a kid. Honestly, doc, you should know better than we should." Grantaire commented.

"That's true. Do you think Eponine-"

"Okay, no. We can talk about you, but we are not talking about whether or not Eponine can still have children."

"Oh, I better be able to. My uterus tearing itself apart every month better have some upside." Eponine entered the room and chugged milk from the container.

"Ew." Enjolras wrinkled his nose and she smirked, offering him some. He shook his head. 

"You want kids?" Grantaire asked her.

"No. That's a good point. But still." Eponine shrugged, closing the milk container and going to put it back.

"You can just take that home." Enjolras responded and Eponine shrugged, heading to the living room where she sat with the milk container while watching TV.

"Why aren't you getting on her case about the speeches?" Grantaire asked Enjolras.

"She's had it memorized since last year."

"It doesn't change?"

"It changes. She's just…efficient." Enjolras finished.

"I'm gonna talk about wanting children as a bisexual man."

"Don't offer your body to anyone." Enjolras muttered out and Grantaire snorted.

"I won't. I'll just suggest that having parents should be more important than people's prejudices." Combeferre took that suggestion too calmly for Grantaire's taste.

"In regards to adoption." Enjolras clarified and Combeferre nodded as he wrote. Enjolras and Grantaire watched him write for a while before Grantaire furrowed his eyebrows.

"Combeferre, have you been looking into adoption?" He asked and Combeferre looked up at him as Enjolras bit his lip.

"We considered adopting Marius when his parents died. This time through." Enjolras rolled his eyes and Grantaire gave him a look.

"They didn't let you?"

"Four men with shaky schedules cannot accurately raise a child. At least, that was their excuse when Combeferre and Courfeyrac walked in holding hands." Enjolras explained and Combeferre sighed, lying his head down on his arm as he stared out the kitchen window.

"Do you think he hates me?" Combeferre asked.

"Nobody can hate you, 'Ferre." Enjolras responded as Grantaire stood.

"I'll go read over my Q and A." Grantaire suggested and Enjolras nodded as he looked back at Combeferre, who had closed his eyes at this point.

"So, do you want to change your topic from bisexuality to adoption?" Enjolras asked, running his fingers through Combeferre's hair.

"Yeah."

"Okay. Go for it." Enjolras offered. "Make it a good one." He finished and Combeferre sat back up, beginning to write furiously as Enjolras joined in, finishing his own speech.

Later, Joly rushed into the house with Courfeyrac shortly behind him. "Musichetta's arriving tomorrow!" Joly sang. "Everything needs to be perfect for her stay." Joly continued, looking around to see that Enjolras and Combeferre had joined Grantaire and Eponine in the living room.

"We need a bigger house." Grantaire informed them and Enjolras pressed his lips together to keep from smiling at Grantaire's sudden inclusion of himself into the family.

"I'll take Javert and Gav home." Eponine decided.

"Musichetta can sleep with me." Joly announced and Enjolras covered his face with his hands.

"What are you, ten?" Combeferre asked him. "Enjolras, let's go mattress shopping. I'll share your room." He decided, followed by Courfeyrac leaving the room.

"A little soon." Enjolras gave his friend a look and Combeferre sighed, throwing his head back to rest against the back of his chair.

"Musichetta loves me and remembers me. She's not going to be weird about sleeping with me. In the same bed, for Enjolras's sake, I might add." Joly explained.

"Go for it." Combeferre decided and headed up after Courfeyrac. They all stared in the general direction of the stairs as if waiting for a sign.

"Hopefully that'll be the make up conversation." Enjolras grunted.

"They're not going to make up. This anger between them has been building up for decades. Let's just hope it’s the conversation that makes them a bit more friendly." Joly explained and Enjolras shrugged, figuring that that would be enough.

Upstairs, Courfeyrac had his face buried in his pillow as he lay quietly on his bed. Combeferre entered the room and sat on the floor beside him. Combeferre placed his hand on Courfeyrac's hair, playing with it slightly. "I'm sorry." Combeferre whispered. "I don't hate you, you know that right?"

"Yes. I don't hate you either." Courfeyrac informed him after a few quiet seconds.

"I know. I'm used to your outbursts; you're not used to mine. I shouldn't have reacted that way. Any of those ways." Combeferre concluded and Courfeyrac peered up at him from the pillow.

"I love you." Courfeyrac squeaked and saw Combeferre wince, so he buried his head again.

"What you said was true, 'Fey. I've grown completely apathetic."

"It's a defense mechanism." Courfeyrac complained.

"Very likely. But right now, I can't fight it. The pain isn't enjoyable. We're all going through a lot and…our relationship was…hurting me." Courfeyrac looked up to glare at him. "You weren't. I was. What I compromised to be with you or to be without you." Courfeyrac sighed, rolling his eyes as he rolled over to stare up at Combeferre, waiting for an explanation. "I mean. When I was with you, I didn't feel entirely comfortable. You know I'm not very physical in my relationships."

"I thought you were fine with me, though."

"I was. For a long time. But then, I grew more apathetic and it didn't work anymore. But then, if I wasn't talking to you or glued to your side in some way, I felt awful. It would eat away at me. After…a rather inconsiderate break up, I finally broke down. My emotions worked again. And I didn't like it."

"Please, Combeferre." Courfeyrac had tears on his cheeks although he wept quietly.

"I've been unfair to you, 'Fey. I can't love you the way you love me. I can't give you what you deserve. You'd get along better with…well, anyone who isn't me, to be honest." Courfeyrac reached for him, so Combeferre curled up beside him, letting Courfeyrac hold him one last time. "I love you, Courfeyrac, but not in that way."


	12. Bounce Me Weightless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Musichetta arrives and cheers everyone up a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of child abuse (neglect, verbal), schizophrenia, depression, and attempted suicide.  
> I have decided to start updating this twice a week (Wednesday, Saturday) because once a week would take forever to end this story. I will do my best to remember, and hopefully, I will keep writing fast enough to keep this pace.

_"We're well read and poised_

_We're the best boys._

_We're the chemists who've found the formula_

_To make your heart swell and burst"_

_-"Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New Rochelle, New York**

"'Chetta!" Joly shouted, waking Courfeyrac, who was the only person still asleep at that ungodly time in the morning. Combeferre and Enjolras had bought the mattress, assembled it, and then left it alone while they worked in the living room all night.

Grantaire and Eponine were watching TV and playing games on the couch while Javert and Gavroche were nowhere to be found. Neither of them had gone to sleep the night before either. Joly had spent a good portion of the night making welcome cards for Musichetta, which escalated into cookies, cake and gourmet food that set off the fire alarm. He stuck to pizza, which was devoured before dawn.

"My darling!" Musichetta responded, wrapping Joly up in her arms and kissing him plain on the mouth. Joly didn't seem to care. Behind him, Enjolras smiled to greet the woman.

"Madam." He held out his hand and with a bow, kissed hers.

"Oh, you must be dear Enjolras. There's been many a time when our threesome was hinting at a foursome with your name being held so highly within our family." Enjolras blushed at the woman's words, but she giggled as she turned to greet Grantaire.

"My baby, Grantaire." She wrapped her arms around him.

"Why was I never commissioned for this foursome?" Grantaire asked and Musichetta hid another giggle behind her small hand.

"You were always much too distracted by…other more godly beings." She informed him and he blushed in turn, glancing at Enjolras, but then avoiding eye contact with anyone as she patted his cheek. Enjolras narrowed his eyes, but reminded himself to breathe.

Musichetta moved on to her next victims. Combeferre was stalking into the living room from the kitchen with a cup of coffee while Courfeyrac had entered, unsure of what was happening. "Combeferre and Courfeyrac. You are-" Joly whispered something in her ear. "So handsome." She finished, her smile seeming a bit forced after that. Courfeyrac rolled his eyes and draped himself across Enjolras's lap after Enjolras sat in his chair at the desk he shared with Combeferre.

"Pleasure to meet you, madam." Combeferre shook her hand and sat slightly too close to Eponine, who scooted off the couch and finally managed to stand.

"Well, nice to see you, 'Chetta. Don't know if you remember me, but I remember you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going out to find my brother." Eponine high fived Musichetta's outstretched hand and left the building.

Musichetta looked around the room again and saw that nobody was particularly smiling other than Joly, who was still hanging on her arm. "Well. I think a nice boat ride is in need, don't you, Joly?" She asked him and he nodded with a smile at her as the others looked up with half grins at the idea.

Two hours later, they were all on a boat that Musichetta had rented for the morning. Since Musichetta was the only one who had experience steering a boat, she was given the honors. She and Joly were talking at the bow while Courfeyrac and Combeferre let the mist spray them in the stern, listening to the roar of the boat's engine against the waves.

"Have you memorized your speech yet?" Grantaire asked Enjolras. The two of them sat in the middle of the boat, as if splitting the boat in half between the broken and happy couples. They were in the middle grounds.

"Yes. I've just got to go over some minor details." Enjolras informed him. "How's your court presence coming along?" He asked in return and Grantaire wrinkled his nose.

"Can I come tomorrow?" Grantaire changed the subject and Enjolras nodded.

"Of course." Enjolras responded and was silent. "Where did you live before the war?" He finally asked.

"Harlem." Grantaire replied and Enjolras nodded.

"Family?"

"Dead." Grantaire responded easily and Enjolras winced. "Oh, no, it's okay. They were horrible anyway."

"Have you always been raised in abusive homes?" Enjolras asked gently.

"No. Not really last time. And you can't really count them as abusive in light of what other kids go through."

"It's not about what other kids go through. It's about your experience and how it affected you." Enjolras countered and Grantaire turned to him as if looking for any sign of insincerity in Enjolras's face.

"My first family was verbally abusive, I guess you could say. Second, neglecting. This last one, just, too many kids and too little time for me."

"How many siblings did you have?" Enjolras asked.

"Three."

"And everyone in your family is dead?"

"Yeah. My dad died in war. Siblings died in a car crash and my mom died of cancer."

"I'm sorry."

"Like I said, no love lost." Grantaire responded and looked out across the waves. Their fingers touched.

After a lunch at the Marina Grille, Joly and Musichetta dropped off the rest of the household, who seemed relatively cheered by a bit of vitamin D. The two of them headed off to Joly's work.

"I found Bossuet way back when. That's why we never moved closer to Grantaire's case and Eponine's work. He's been diagnosed as a schizophrenic with severe depression. Like, he tried to kill himself several times because 'the voices said to'." Joly explained as they drove.

"And he doesn't show signs of recognition around you?" Musichetta asked.

"No. None. But I thought that maybe you'd bring back some memories."

"Are you sure that's such a good idea, though, Joly?" Musichetta asked when they stopped in the parking lot.

"I figure he can't get worse than he already is." Joly informed her and she pressed her lips together. She pressed her palm to his cheek and then they entered the building.

Inside, Bossuet was sitting in a rocking chair, staring straight forward out the window. Still, his eyes didn't seem to see past the dew on the window. "Bossuet?" Joly approached and stepped around Bossuet so that the man could see them both. "You have a visitor."

"Bossuet." Musichetta knelt down in front of Bossuet, her eyes welling up as she placed her hand on his. He looked over at her. "Mon amour, please. Do you remember me? Musichetta?" She asked him and he placed his hand on her cheek.

"No tears, mademoiselle." He responded and Joly smiled.

"L'aigle." Musichetta breathed and he furrowed his eyebrows.

"I am nothing so majestic, mademoiselle, I am just Bossuet from Meaux." He informed her and she burst into tears, lying her head in his lap. He stroked her hair, muttering an old French lullaby as Joly got down beside Musichetta, taking Bossuet's other hand in his.

"Now do you remember me, Bossuet?" Joly asked.

"Jolllly, you may fly away on the four L's." Bossuet informed him and Joly's smile widened. "I have always remembered you, Joly. Sometimes, things just don't come out the way they should. Sometimes…" Bossuet took his hands from his two lovers and held his fingers against his temples. "Minds don't come out the way they should. But we are here now. Together."


	13. Keep You Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say their speeches at the Museum Mile Festival followed by Enjolras getting into a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homophobia, implied death of homophobic character, and PTSD experienced.

  _"I wanna throw my hands in the air and scream_

_And I could just die laughing on your spiral of shame..._

_Hit it, never quit it, I have been through the wreck_

_But I can scream enough to show my face in the light again"_

_-"Twin Skeletons (Hotel in NYC)" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New Rochelle-New York City, New York**

"That was idealistic." Grantaire commented after Enjolras finished his speech. Enjolras narrowed his eyes at him.

"Thanks for that vote of confidence." He replied, hopping off the table.

"What were you doing on the table?" Musichetta asked with a giggle as she entered the kitchen from the garage, pulling her gloves and wrap off.

"He likes to be tall." Eponine informed her.

"When he's excited, he jumps up and down until he reaches the highest he can get. He's ended speeches by swinging off of chandeliers or crawling off of high shelves." Combeferre explained in all solemnity.

"We agreed never to speak of those moments." Enjolras countered and Combeferre stared him down from over his glasses before handing him a piece of paper.

"As usual, you sounded like you were going to kill someone in line thirty. Maybe just reword it?" Combeferre suggested.

"No. They need to know the seriousness of our rights. How they hang in the balance." Enjolras explained, motioning to his own paper on which he had written out his speech.

"Like a man being hanged." Combeferre continued.

"Such as the government's own men should be." Courfeyrac added.

"I think that's testimony enough to be called a traitor." Joly commented, pulling a pizza out of the fridge.

"Article One states-"

"Article Three states-"

"Without two witnesses or a confession."

"A crowd of people constitutes at least two witnesses." Enjolras and Combeferre battled as the rest of them stared.

"The intent is not there." Enjolras continued, but Combeferre sensed the discomfiture in the room and just sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose as he pulled out his phone.

"Well, I guess it's time to go." Combeferre informed them.

In the car, Enjolras repeated the line over and over again while Grantaire stared in mock fear and terror of his words. "Our rights are being hanged like today's government should be!" Grantaire mimed fainting and Enjolras rolled his eyes, turning to stare out the window instead.

"Do you want to come across anarchical? 'Cause that's all I'm getting here." Grantaire remarked.

"Enjolras is an anarchist." Eponine added.

"Enjolras votes. No he's not." Grantaire rolled his eyes.

"Tell me again why we're not taking separate cars?" Combeferre muttered from the driver's seat.

"And further pollute the air?" Enjolras added grumpily.

"We own Priuses!" Combeferre gritted his teeth. "Musichetta's old van's much more likely to kill the earth."

"It's a very nice old van." Musichetta remarked.

"It's got a unicorn on it." Joly defended and Courfeyrac laughed.

"Unicorn of death." Courfeyrac added and saw Enjolras's reflection crack a smile.

Finally, they reached the museums with an hour to spare. They rehearsed their speeches off stage since the stage was only being used by those sound checking at that moment.

"Did you get us the first hour?" Combeferre asked Enjolras over the crowd murmuring.

"Yes. Most people present that way." He concluded and Combeferre nodded though his face turned slightly paler than usual.

"I don't know how you do it." Grantaire muttered and Enjolras looked at him.

"Do what?"

"Talk on a stage."

"I don't think about the people judging; I think about their ignorance." Enjolras explained and Grantaire raised his eyebrows in surprise, but smirked.

"You would." At that point, a man with a microphone waved over Combeferre and the rest of the speakers joined him.

Combeferre's speech went perfectly as expected. He had memorized the entire thing the night before, including references to books and articles for people to go back to. Grantaire looked around to see a few teary eyed people. Courfeyrac's seemed to lose them though he spoke with no less passion. Still, there were a few voices shushing the crowd. "Nobody wants to be told that there's no reason for their sadness." Grantaire muttered to himself and was then cursed at by someone who was clearly quite entranced by Courfeyrac's speech. Next, Eponine spoke and the ramblers were brought back on track. It was then that Grantaire recognized the topic interest. It appealed to those in broken homes or with children of their own.

He rushed over to Enjolras even though they were divided by a chain separating the performers and the crowd. "Do you know how to read a crowd?" Grantaire asked him and Enjolras narrowed his eyes in confusion. "This crowd is full of broken families and parents." He explained, but was cut off by Enjolras being called onto the stage.

At first, it didn't appear that Enjolras understood what Grantaire was saying. But then-"Our children's rights will be hanged if we do not stand up against the government that allows such treatment." Grantaire chuckled. Enjolras continued relating his speech to families and Grantaire nodded in satisfaction.

"Whoo!" Enjolras was greeted by Eponine jumping into his arms. "They loved you!" She shouted.

"Grantaire?" Enjolras called, trying to look past Eponine's hair in his face.

"Yes, Apollo?" Grantaire smirked and Enjolras stared back, widening his eyes and sighing as if in relief.

"Let's get a drink." Enjolras concluded and Grantaire was happy to comply.

After meeting up with Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Joly and Musichetta, they concluded that the four would be touring the museums while the other three would be at the bar nearby.

Eponine quickly trailed off from Grantaire and Enjolras, who sat at the bar in silence. "You understood what I was saying." Grantaire called and Enjolras gave him a smile in return. "What's bugging you?" Grantaire asked when Enjolras remained silent. Enjolras looked up at him in curiosity.

"My speech got applause."

"Yes. The most, second only to Combeferre's." Grantaire concluded.

"But nobody listened." Enjolras countered and Grantaire narrowed his eyes in confusion. "I mean they heard what I said. They especially heard what I said when it related to them, but it's the same story. They sit there and think, 'wow, that's sad, but my children are quite straight and therefore, unaffected' and go on with their lives." Enjolras explained and Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

"But, there's always at least one family…one person who is vastly affected. There's never a majority consensus on new situations."

"This is an old situation."

"Those who were blind to it don't see it that way. Let the situation grow and then they'll listen." Grantaire explained and Enjolras smiled.

"Yeah. I guess so."

"Oh look!" Grantaire was bumped into and he almost fell into Enjolras. "A couple of queers being women. What's that like?" The drunk asked and Enjolras winced at the slur.

"It's okay." Grantaire looked Enjolras in the eye and Enjolras gritted his teeth.

"Get out of here." Enjolras countered.

"Oh, okay. You must be the man in the relationship. So, you're the ass?" The drunk pointed to Grantaire and laughed. Grantaire just turned back to the bar.

"Grant-" Enjolras was cut off by the man turning Grantaire around and grabbing his cheeks.

"Do you want to kiss me? Is that why you're here?" He asked and Enjolras pushed him off.

"Get out of here!" Enjolras shouted and could tell that the bustle was becoming noticeable.

"Freedom to assemble. You like exercising your rights, don't you, fag?" The man aimed a punch for Enjolras's stomach, but Enjolras pushed him away, thinking fast. If this man got hit back, it was likely that he would be brought to court, seeing the amount of glamour the man wore. The gay man versus the rich man…didn't seem a fair case.

"Come on, Grantaire." Enjolras pulled on Grantaire's shoulder and Grantaire stood.

"Hey!" Enjolras felt himself whirled around to see a gun in his face, but his instincts acted quicker than this man could. Enjolras grabbed the gun as the man punched him in the face. The room went dark as Enjolras felt the floor against his back. Still, he jumped back up as the lights above him blurred, aiming for his own punch.

The tussle fell back to the floor rather quickly and Enjolras felt other hands besides the man's pulling him, as if trying to separate them. Enjolras was a soldier. The gun in his hand was the only familiar thing around him in that moment other than the slurs coming from this man. The fist repeatedly made contact with Enjolras's face until the sound of the punch was accompanied by the sound of a gunshot followed by the man falling on top of Enjolras.


	14. More Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras goes to the hospital, and Grantaire and Combeferre talk things over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of PTSD

  _"Sometimes the only payoff for having any faith  
_

_Is when it's tested again and again everyday_

_I'm still comparing your past to my future_

_They might be your wounds, but they're my sutures"_

_-"Immortals" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New York City, New York**

Finally, Enjolras could feel his heart beating. Fast. Too fast. "Grantaire?" He called, feeling the world slip away. He fought back. "Grantaire?" The sweaty man smelling of beer and body odor was pulled off of him and he jumped to his feet, but his knees buckled. Still, he was caught by familiar hands.

"Come on." Grantaire's voice grunted and he felt himself being pulled into cooler air. Finally, Enjolras squirmed out of the hands and ran a few feet away before turning to see Grantaire standing in front of him. Grantaire held his hands out in surrender with tired eyes that dulled the terror in Enjolras's. "It's okay." Grantaire told him, though it sounded like the same kind of 'okay' situation that put Grantaire in court.

"There was a gunshot?" Enjolras asked, clutching his head as he rocked back and forth.

"Yes."

"Did I-?"

"Yes." Grantaire finished and Enjolras shook slightly. "Which is why we need to leave."

"No. We have to stay." Enjolras countered, hearing the police sirens grow louder. "If I run…" Enjolras forced himself to breathe. "I look guilty."

"You're alive and there's a dead man in there with a gun with your fingerprints on it and an entire bar of witnesses."

"Drunk witnesses."

"Enjolras."

"Grantaire, it was self-defense!" Enjolras argued.

"No, actually, it was a flashback triggered by a gun in your face in a violent situation; however, I doubt you've been in a war recent enough for us to be able to claim PTSD of a mortal being." Grantaire growled and Enjolras stepped away from him, looking around wildly. "You're losing a lot of blood." Grantaire commented, holding his hands out again as he approached Enjolras, who allowed himself to be clutched into an unexpected hug. "You need a hospital." Grantaire informed him.

"No."

"The police are here and they're going to realize that you need a hospital as soon as you pull away." Grantaire remarked and Enjolras pulled away to look Grantaire in the eye.

"Sir?" They were approached just as Grantaire said they would be. "Are you all right?" The medic asked.

"I killed him." Enjolras informed her, his eyes filling with tears.

"What?" She asked, jumping slightly.

"I killed him. He-he jump on top of me and I-I…" Enjolras trailed off as he began sobbing.

"Shh." Grantaire took his hand. "It was self-defense." Grantaire informed him.

"Um, we need you to come with us." The medic claimed and Enjolras tried to stand, assisted by Grantaire. The lights bombarded him and he shut his eyes, but that made the sounds fade as well, so he opened them, but couldn't see.

"Grantaire?" Enjolras called.

"I'm here."

"Call Combeferre…check…Eponine." Enjolras finished and the world slipped away.

When Enjolras woke back up, he heard a heart monitor beeping. "Little dramatic, don't you think?" Enjolras grumbled and blinked away the blurs to see Grantaire sitting beside him and a nurse checking his vitals.

"Just a precaution, sir." The nurse replied.

"You did need a lot of stitches in your face." Grantaire countered.

"My face is not my brain."

"Oh, no, you needed some there too." Grantaire informed him and Enjolras blinked back before glaring. "I called Combeferre and he's on his way. Eponine said that she's the one who called the police in the first place, so Combeferre's going to pick her up on their way over here." Grantaire explained and Enjolras nodded, sighing.

"Okay, I'll be representing myself in court. Oh. Um, you're going to need a new attorney." Enjolras stared wide eyed up at Grantaire who raised an eyebrow.

"You don't even know if this will go to court."

"I killed someone."

"In self defense. He had a gun and then tackled you to the floor."

"But, he tackled me only once the gun was-" Enjolras tried to sit up, but Grantaire placed his hand on Enjolras's chest.

"Enjolras, shh. Go to sleep, okay? Combeferre's almost here and he'll take care of it." Grantaire informed him and Enjolras sighed.

"I'm the lawyer."

"He's the doctor. I'm a witness. The police left a while ago and they don't have you handcuffed to the bed, so I'm counting on you being an easy release." Grantaire explained and Enjolras reached for Grantaire's hand.

"Don't leave." Enjolras stated as the world blackened out again.

" _Angé_." Enjolras heard someone whisper and then felt a hand on his. " _Il est temps de rentrer à la maison_." Enjolras opened his eyes to see Combeferre staring down at him. "Courfeyrac, Joly and Musichetta went home with Eponine. She found a friend who gave them a ride."

"Okay." Enjolras whispered back and sat up.

"You need to let go of Grantaire." Combeferre informed him carefully. Enjolras released the death grip on Grantaire's hand and looked up to see the man with a small smile.

"Sorry." Enjolras continued to whisper.

Then all the sounds of the hospital hit him like a truck.

"I killed him." Enjolras informed Combeferre, grabbing his arm.

"The police said that it was clearly self defense. You had many witnesses and defensive wounds while the man had only one black eye and a gunshot to the stomach." Combeferre stopped Enjolras from running out of the room. "Enjolras. Enjolras. _Angé_."

"What?" Enjolras shouted back, looking Combeferre straight in the eye, terror reflecting.

"Apollo?" Grantaire called quietly and Enjolras looked back to him and sighed.

"Sorry." Enjolras muttered and let go of the death grip on Combeferre's arm. He had left a mark. Grantaire held out his hand to Enjolras and Enjolras took it, allowing himself to be escorted out to the car.

"Lie down and sleep." Grantaire commanded, having placed Enjolras in the backseat. Then he sat in the passenger seat. They were joined shortly by Combeferre in the driver's seat, but Enjolras had already fallen back asleep.

"Why is this so shocking to him? He's killed before."

"This is in direct contrast to his cause." Combeferre reminded Grantaire. "Every other time it was death _for_ the cause."

"Ah. That does make perfect sense." Grantaire pressed his head to the back of the seat. "Enjolras doesn't fear jail time or conviction. He fears a bad rep for his cause."

"It makes sense in his head."

"He's reckless."

"We all are." Combeferre glanced at Grantaire. "After two hundred years, life is boring. You'd think that immortality is amazing, but it's wearing. Especially for we human beings who have no other form of immortality regarding, say, endurance. None of our minds remember things before the barricade. I don't remember much before the twentieth century, personally. That's how I cope though, believe it or not."

"Don't the blank spots drive you insane?" Grantaire asked.

"You'd think so. But when presented with the choice of remembering ancient tragedies or feeling a hole in their place, I personally much prefer the hole." Combeferre explained. "My point is that recklessness doesn't matter. We can do whatever we want right now because in a decade, it will barely matter. Death isn't coming. Jail time is reversed by the eventual escape and disappearance of a name." Combeferre finished and sighed.

"The cuts on Enjolras's hands are gone." Grantaire informed Combeferre, who nodded.

"We'll need to keep him out of the eye of the public for a while."

"My case is in three days." Grantaire muttered.

"We can coat him in makeup." Combeferre decided. "Did the nurse notice?"

"No." Grantaire muttered and Combeferre sensed the bitterness in Grantaire's voice, waiting for an explanation. "Is that part of the immortality thing, then?"

"Yes."

"Wow. Wish I had that." Combeferre gave him a look. "No, I mean, I understand where you're coming from with the PTSD and stuff, but…quick healing wounds? Come on, that's awesome. He's like a superhero." Grantaire smiled back at sleeping Enjolras.

"He sure thinks so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre says to Enjolras in French: Time to go home.


	15. Nothing Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire and Combeferre force Enjolras to admit what's really bothering him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of PTSD and phantom pain.

* * *

_"I'm not passive, but aggressive_

_Take note, it's not impressive"_

_-"Kids Aren't Alright" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New Rochelle, New York**

Enjolras woke up to the sound of the TV changing channels. He was in his room, but Grantaire was sitting right beside him. "Ah, you're awake."

"Why are you in here?" Enjolras asked and Grantaire wordlessly held up his hand to show that Enjolras had grabbed onto it again.

"You'd have a panic attack every time I tried to get away." Grantaire explained and Enjolras let go, sitting up. "Oh, see this?" Grantaire showed him that he was the latest news. But not for what he wanted to be on the news for.

"Wonderful. Thanks." Enjolras glared at the TV, crossing his arms before realizing that his hands hurt. He looked at them to see that there was nothing wrong with them.

"Yeah, Combeferre said something about phantom pain. And that you'd know what that means? 'Cause I thought that that was an amputee thing."

"It is; we've been amputated from death. When we're injured, the injury goes away, but the mind psychosomatically continues feeling the pain. Immortality confuses our brains." Enjolras explained and rolled over so that he wasn't facing the TV.

"You know, this is getting significant recognition for your cause. Especially since he died yelling at you."

"That's not exactly good recognition, Grantaire." Enjolras snapped and Grantaire shut up. "Sorry." Enjolras finally muttered out.

"People know that it was self-defense." Grantaire commented. "They know that a man attacked you because you're gay." Enjolras registered that Grantaire was trying so hard to convince him that this was a good thing.

"Yes, I know." Enjolras finally replied.

"But, you're still upset."

"I had to kill someone to get noticed." Enjolras turned over and sat up, pushing the covers off of himself so that he could face Grantaire completely.

"That's normally how things work." Grantaire gave Enjolras a sad smirk.

"Well, I don't like 'normally'; I wanted this to be different. Things should be resolved and recognized and understood by talking it over." Enjolras shoved his fist into his pillow.

"Did you know that in school books, there are always examples? To explain?" Grantaire reminded him softly.

"That man wasn't an example! I'm not-We're not going to go around shooting people who shout slurs at us and in no way should that be endorsed."

"Go talk to the press." Grantaire shrugged and Enjolras rolled his eyes, rolling back over to face the wall. Grantaire pushed him off the bed. Enjolras stood angrily, turning to face Grantaire, glaring him down as Grantaire raised an eyebrow and smirked back at him. Enjolras saw the challenge on Grantaire's face and blushed randomly. Grantaire raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Get out." Enjolras demanded weakly, avoiding eye contact.

"Um-"

"I need to change and you do not need to be present for such an event!" Enjolras snapped.

"Changing is an event for you." Grantaire grumbled on his way out, but Enjolras ignored him.

When Enjolras entered the living room, he saw that Combeferre and Grantaire were waiting for him. He looked outside to see the sun shining. "You should probably go get Courfeyrac and Joly at some point. And Musichetta."

"They went to the park." Combeferre replied and faced Enjolras after putting his book down. He watched as Enjolras crept around the couch and sat down next to Grantaire, though keeping some distance between them.

Grantaire was playing Mario Kart. " _Here we go!_ " Luigi exclaimed.

"There are no charges against you. The man you killed-"

"What was his name?"

" _Mama Mia!_ "

"Ronald Winchester." Combeferre replied and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Anyway, he had no next of kin. And his friends there said that he deserved what he got, albeit rather drunkenly."

" _Yahoo!_ "

"There'll still be rumors." Enjolras inspected his uninjured hand.

"Nobody doubts that you acted in self defense." Enjolras stood and walked over to the mirror, where he saw that there was only a scar where he had gotten stitches under his eye. He poked it.

"A prosecutor might."

" _I'm'a Luigi! Number one!_ "

"Lucky for you, we're not going to court." Combeferre gritted his teeth and Enjolras turned to him, plopping back down beside Grantaire.

" _Select your player!_ "

Enjolras groaned and unplugged the Mario Kart. "But I am."

"Hey!" Grantaire kicked at Enjolras's foot and Enjolras tucked it under himself.

"Grantaire needs a new lawyer." Enjolras decided and Grantaire stopped trying to roughhouse.

"I don't want one." Grantaire furrowed his eyebrows.

"Rumors will spread about me; the prosecutor will use it against me."

"Prior bad acts are inadmissible. And you’re the attorney." Combeferre argued.

"Yes, but the jury doesn't know that and the prosecutor will know that they don't. Grantaire, you don't want me as an attorney."

"Enjolras, I didn't want a competent attorney to begin with. Now, I've got you, who are assuring me of my last few days with friends and family. Forgive me if I don't care about your attorney drama."

"Did you just call me incompetent?" Enjolras furrowed his eyebrows.

"So what if I did?" Grantaire smiled mischievously and leaned into Enjolras's personal space. Enjolras stared back in surprise.

"You can't change attorneys again anyway. You've done it once and that was for an actual reason. This is because you're in a bad mood." Combeferre narrowed his eyes at Enjolras, who glared back.

"I have an actual reason."

"It's a stupid one."

"What’s the freaking point of me speaking about Grantaire anyway?" Enjolras finally snapped and Grantaire sat back down on his side of the couch, looking at Combeferre, who glanced at him as well. "I may as well force him into a flashback to show the audience that there are moments in which someone isn't in control of themselves because we sure as hell know that words aren't working anywhere!"

"That was one event, Enjolras-" Grantaire started, but Enjolras wasn't finished.

"It doesn't matter! Even back on the barricades, I had to kill people to prove my point! I was a killer before I was killed. Now, it seems as though the only way I ever make anyone pay any attention is by having someone die!" Enjolras stood and attempted to leave, but Combeferre followed, slamming him against the entryway wall. He spoke over Enjolras's blubbering and attempts to argue.

"Enjolras, right now, you are upset at the severity of your actions. You need to relax before you can actually view anything right now with a clear head. You're not a murderer. You don't want to be one, which furthers the idea that there's nothing wrong. This wasn't you actively seeking out homophobes to kill, this was someone attacking a homosexual to see how they'd react and it went rather badly for them. This doesn't make homosexuals monsters; this doesn't even make us radical; it makes us brave and willing to stand up for ourselves and it is about time, don't you think?" Combeferre finished and let Enjolras go. Enjolras was finally silent and glared for a second before pressing his hands against his eyes.

"Why won't words work?" Enjolras finally whimpered.

"I bet you they will now." Combeferre remarked and Enjolras looked up at him before sighing and nodding, heading into the kitchen where Grantaire had escaped and was making coffee for Enjolras. After handing Enjolras his cup, Grantaire wrapped his arms around him. Enjolras hugged back.


	16. Mon Chéri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eponine finds something important for Grantaire's case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of flashbacks, murder and thoughts of suicide.

_"I know this hurts; it was meant to  
_

_Your secret's out and the best part is_

_It isn't even a good one."_

_-"Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part to Save the Scene and Stop Going to Shows)" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New Rochelle-New York City-New Rochelle, New York**

The next morning, Enjolras was woken by his phone going off. Upon seeing Eponine's name, he answered, knowing that Eponine never calls. "What?" He grunted.

"You need to come over and see this." She replied.

"What?"

"I found information regarding what happened the night Grantaire killed people off." Eponine explained.

"I'll be right there." Enjolras decided and jumped out of bed, heading over after writing a note on the fridge for the rest of the family. Combeferre hadn't been in bed, nor did he seem to be present in the house, so Enjolras assumed he was out getting drunk on beer or books.

At Eponine's, Gavroche and Javert were also present. The sun had come up on Enjolras's drive over, so they were all sitting in the kitchen, waiting with a cup of coffee for Enjolras. Enjolras entered without even knocking, knowing that they would be waiting for him.

"What's up, then?" Enjolras asked, staring Eponine down. She slid a notebook across the table to him as he took a sip of the coffee.

"That's Grantaire's journal. Go to the last entry." Eponine demanded. Enjolras flipped the cover to see Grantaire's name scrawled into the book.

"They know?" Enjolras asked, glancing at Javert and Gavroche.

"Yeah." Eponine raised her eyebrows. "This showed up on my doorstep this morning. Javert found it and was reading it with Gavroche when I got up."

"Who gets up that early?" Enjolras muttered, but dropped the subject.

"Just read. Want waffles?" She asked and Enjolras looked over at Gavroche's waffles that were covered in chocolate chips, chocolate syrup, powdered sugar and whipped cream.

"Sure, but none of that crap." Enjolras commented, gently flipping to the last entry.

"It's not like its going to kill me." Gavroche claimed through a mouthful of sugar.

"It'll make your life hell, though." Enjolras raised an eyebrow at a page in the journal with nothing but scribbles and the words, 'my life' at the bottom.

"Hey, little ears." Eponine interceded.

"Those little ears are older than today's elderly; I think he'll live." Enjolras retorted and found the last entry.

 

> " _In all honesty, our actions today probably stopped a lot of deaths. Those men could have killed so many more than the ones we killed to kill them. But there were children. Maybe they were going to die anyway. But we killed them. We did. We_ -" Here there were several words scratched out so violently that the page had ripped. " _Is nothing precious? Those children are dead because of us and now they're celebrating. They're being rewarded and honored. I'm being rewarded and honored for killing children. We could've waited. We didn't have to kill them in that building. We could've waited until the children were out or waited for them to leave. They're all drunk in there. I can smell the fumes, I would know. How can they? We killed. And now, we deserve to die. Myself included, though I suppose I wasn't precisely the initial decider of death. For children! Crap, they're knocking on the door. Go away go away. Why can't_-" And there it ended.

"Children." Enjolras whispered.

"Yeah. What do you want to bet that this explains the deaths?"

"You found this at your door?" Enjolras asked and Eponine pointed to Javert, who nodded.

"The doorbell rang, so I answered to see nothing but this in a paper bag."

"You picked it up?" Enjolras narrowed his eyes.

"You're paranoid. Anyway, there were no cars around and I couldn't see anyone around either."

"Could this help his case?" Eponine asked.

"No." Enjolras flipped through the rest of the journal.

"But you have to admit it into evidence." Eponine insisted.

"Yes, I do."

"Well, it doesn't interfere with your case, right?" Eponine asked.

"Depends on whether or not Grantaire remembers writing this." Enjolras replied and took a picture of it with his phone, sending it to Grantaire.

"Worst case scenario; Grantaire wrote this before killing them. It's confusing enough that it can be portrayed as something written by someone on the edge of a flashback." Eponine reminded him.

"No, worst case scenario, this shows motive and premeditation." Enjolras responded as he answered Grantaire's return call. "What the hell?" Enjolras snapped.

"Yeah, really, what the hell?" Grantaire responded. "Where'd you get that?"

"How do you explain it?"

"I was writing before I killed them." Enjolras heard the sob in Grantaire's voice.

"Why does it upset you so much?" Enjolras asked and heard heavy breathing followed by the phone seeming to be put down on the other end. Enjolras waited.

"Bad memories." The answer finally came.

"I'll be home soon. Stay there." Enjolras demanded and hung up.

"What'cha gonna do now?" Gavroche asked through a mouthful of chocolate.

"I'm going to put it in evidence and go see what Grantaire makes of it. Thank you." He waved to Eponine and left.

When he returned home, he breezed past everyone in the living room and found Grantaire in his room, rocking back and forth on his bed as he stared forward. "It wasn't a flashback." Enjolras guessed. "It was a premeditated action."

"Not premeditated." Grantaire mumbled.

"You were already upset with them. You wrote down that they deserved to die!" Enjolras threw his coat off, throwing it across the hall so that it would land in his own room on the floor or something.

"I included myself in that matter, and yes, I was! The rest of what I told you is true. One guy, Barnes, came up to me and tried to get me to join in the festivities even though I was barfing into the toilet, and then I shot him." Grantaire hadn't moved except to wring his hands together.

"Because of what he was doing." Enjolras paced to the window.

"Yeah, I already told you that." Grantaire glared, but the terror in his eyes quickly replaced the anger.

"What do you mean you weren't 'the initial decider of death'?" Enjolras demanded, staring out the window.

"I was the new kid. I didn't have as much say." Grantaire offered, finally turning slightly to look at Enjolras.

"But you had some say." Enjolras looked back.

"This was an important and life changing choice. We all had to agree for this to happen." Grantaire whimpered out.

"And you agreed." Enjolras stated in monotone, waiting for Grantaire to respond with 'April Fool's' or some other nonsense.

"I just didn't speak up in disagreement." Grantaire responded and Enjolras sighed.

"At that moment, when Barnes walked in on you, you made a decision." Enjolras claimed and Grantaire stared back with sorrow in his eyes. "Was your death part of the plan?" His eyes turned dead.

"Yes." All indecisiveness left his voice for this simple word.

"And why didn't you kill yourself?" Enjolras dared to ask as he stared out the window once more. No reply came until Enjolras turned to see Grantaire holding himself like a dead man.

"I was interrupted."


	17. 'Til I Confess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feuilly is Superman. Except I'm Marvel all the way, so he's Captain America. Except French. Captain France.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of suicide watch, and pedophilia if you look closely.

_"I don't have the right name or the right looks_

_But I have twice the heart_

_Anything you say can and will be held against you_

_So only say my name"_

_-"Just One Yesterday" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New Rochelle, New York**

The next morning was Sunday. The sun was shining, but, as they all sat around the kitchen, nobody's face matched the sun. Musichetta had left early to return to work, saying that she could return maybe in a month. Nothing was tying Joly down for the morning, so he had gone early to work, claiming that he wanted to talk with Bossuet before work.

They heard the front door open, but Enjolras continued writing, Combeferre continued reading and Courfeyrac continued cleaning the dishes. Grantaire was reading over Enjolras's shoulder.

"I heard rain clouds gathering over your house so I came with warm donuts." Feuilly announced and they all turned to smile at him. Courfeyrac jumped into his arms as he set the donuts down on the table. Combeferre and Enjolras stood, Combeferre giving him a hug followed by Enjolras jumping into Feuilly's arms for a much more meaningful hug that lasted a bit too long for Grantaire to be comfortable with the situation.

After they all got settled around the table once more, Feuilly cleared his throat. "I am taking you all out for a day. We'll do relaxing things."

"Musichetta had that same idea." Combeferre muttered. "I'm sorry, Feuilly, no can do. I have to leave for work in an hour." He claimed and Feuilly gave the man a suspicious glance, but turned to Enjolras.

"That'll be nice." Enjolras decided and Feuilly smiled back. "Grantaire's coming because he's on suicide watch. Courf?" Enjolras ignored the daggers Grantaire had sent him as he looked to Courfeyrac who had a donut in one hand and another shoved in his mouth.

"Park first!" Courfeyrac squealed and went stomping up stairs, presumably to put on clothes that weren't his tacky Hawaiian pajamas.

Within a half hour, they were all carted into Feuilly's car and heading off to the park. "When's the trial?" Feuilly asked in the awkward silence.

"Tomorrow." Enjolras muttered. "And we got new evidence yesterday that almost guarantees a conviction."

"Thanks for that." Grantaire snapped back.

"Well, if you had given me the journal-"

"I clearly didn't have it!"

"Okay, sorry I brought it up. Courfeyrac, what are you working on these days?" Feuilly changed the subject and Courfeyrac began babbling about the new films he would be acting in.

The park they had reached had a duck pond and a playground right beside one another, though the duck pond was covered in willow trees that formed a wall between the two. Grantaire looked around in confusion.

"What do four grown men do at a park that isn't creepy?" He finally asked and Feuilly pulled a bag of several loaves of bread out, handing it to Courfeyrac who smiled and skipped off to feed the ducks. Then, Feuilly pulled out a sketchbook and a box that claimed to have pastels inside. Grantaire beamed up at Feuilly, thanking him quietly and then following Courfeyrac.

"How are you doing, Feuilly?" Enjolras asked rather than touch on his rather delicate situation.

"I'm okay. The hotel's kind of failing. Do you need me to keep it running?" He asked and Enjolras shrugged.

"I don't care anymore. Hopefully, we won't need it again and if we do-" Enjolras sighed. "Well, I'm sure there'll be other ways to jog a memory."

"Okay."

"What are you going to do now, then?" Enjolras asked.

"Well, with the way you two interact, I'm guessing he'll be sleeping in your room soon." Feuilly gestured to Grantaire, but didn't give Enjolras time to speak. "Combeferre'll probably move back in with Courfeyrac soon…ish. So, I'd get the guest room." Feuilly gave Enjolras a smug grin that Enjolras didn't see as he stared down at his feet.

"That's wishful thinking."

"Yeah?" They sat on the bench, watching Courfeyrac feed the ducks and Grantaire sit on his jacket in the grass a few yards away.

"Grantaire's going to be convicted. Combeferre's not moving in with Courfeyrac."

"That's defeatist."

"Yeah. It's realistic."

"That's not you." Feuilly commented and Enjolras swatted his arm.

"Grantaire and I aren't…anything." Enjolras finished, but then realized that he just reopened that conversation topic.

"You want to be. You both do."

"It's not-"

"If you say not realistic, I'm going to spit in your eye." Feuilly snapped and Enjolras looked at him in confusion. "Enjolras, nothing about our lives is realistic. Who cares?"

"The timing isn't right." Enjolras countered.

"That makes no sense."

"There's nothing between Grantaire and I." Enjolras finally insisted and Feuilly raised an eyebrow.

"Have you ever been told that you've got it pretty good?" Feuilly asked him and Enjolras blinked. That statement sounded familiar. As if it had been repeated repeatedly before the barricades. But now, nobody said that because none of them had it 'pretty good' by any standards. "You are beautiful. Now, don't give me that look; you know it's true. And I'm all for 'looks don't matter', but in all honesty, I know what it's like to be on the receiving end of exterior judgment. From what I remember, you've always been filthy rich."

"Feuilly-"

"Yeah, and your name is pronounceable." They chuckled. "My point is take advantage of what opportunities you have. Not everyone gets those opportunities and they may not come again for you."

"Did someone break your heart, mon cher ami?" Enjolras asked, taking Feuilly's hand in his. Feuilly rolled his eyes.

"That's not what we're talking about."

"I prefer this conversation."

"We haven't finished the other, Enjolras. You love someone and your love is requited. Act on it."

"I may have my looks, but you've got twice my heart."

"You've got all the heart I have. You just need to remember how to use it sometimes." Feuilly finished, squeezing Enjolras's hand. Enjolras stared back for a moment before looking out to see Courfeyrac being chased by a goose and Grantaire chasing said goose.

"You are welcome to live with us, Feuilly. At anytime." Enjolras decided and Feuilly nodded though Enjolras wasn't paying attention. Finally, the goose lost interest, but Grantaire tripped over it. Luckily, it just hissed and moved on. "Who's the lucky person whose won your heart?" Enjolras finally turned to Feuilly, beaming at the idea.

"No one."

"I don't believe you for a second." Enjolras countered, narrowing his eyes playfully.

"One day I'll explain, but not today, Enjolras." Feuilly responded with all seriousness, so Enjolras dropped it.

"Do you plan to continue your art?" Enjolras inquired and Feuilly nodded, beginning to explain a commission he had been presented with.

After lunch, which was ice cream from the ice cream cart going around, they headed back home to do puzzles and play video games. Enjolras ordered pizza, pacing around the kitchen while listening to Feuilly and Courfeyrac argue over which puzzle. When he hung up, he entered the entryway of the house to see Grantaire waiting for him.

"Enjolras." Grantaire called and Enjolras stopped to stare back. "I'm sorry. I should've told you."

"None of it's your fault, R. The whole situation is fraught." They stared for a moment longer, Grantaire inching closer to Enjolras. "There's nothing that could've been done." Enjolras gently whispered and then headed into the living room, eventually followed by Grantaire.


	18. My Heart Beating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras and Grantaire try to talk things out, but make things worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk about a yearned for death versus fear of death, and if you look closely, implied child abuse.

_"And I love the way you hurt me_

_It's irresistible..._

_I'm gonna get you to burst just like you were a bubble_

_Frame me up on your wall just to keep me out of trouble_

_Like a moth getting trapped in the light by fixation"_

_-"Irresistible" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New Rochelle, New York**

Feuilly did end up staying the night and planning on coming with them to court. Joly called in saying that he'd meet them at the court the next day, so Feuilly would be able to stay in his room. Enjolras hadn't made the connection that everyone was going to want to come watch the trial. Still, even Javert and Gavroche were apparently eager to see how the case would go. Combeferre had arrived home around dinnertime, acting confused as to why Enjolras _wouldn't_ expect him to be in court.

After dinner, Grantaire announced that he would do the dishes. Courfeyrac sat in the kitchen with him, chatting about every little old thing. "Are you ready?" Combeferre asked when he saw Enjolras leafing through his legal pad.

"I don't know." Enjolras responded completely monotone.

"You're not going to go to sleep tonight, are you?" Feuilly cut in.

"As if I could." Enjolras responded and Feuilly rolled his eyes, going back to his doodles.

"That's a great way to encourage Grantaire." Combeferre muttered under his breath and Enjolras looked up at him.

"What, do you think Grantaire's going to sleep?"

"Grantaire said he's going up early to get a good night's sleep." Courfeyrac entered the room and plopped down beside Combeferre only to scoot away and place his chin on Feuilly's shoulder, watching the man draw. Combeferre raised his eyebrows at Enjolras, who raised an eyebrow in return.

"And you believe him?" Enjolras questioned and Courfeyrac's head snapped up, fear in his eyes. "I'll check on him." Enjolras shuffled up the stairs and knocked on Grantaire's door.

"Just a sec." Grantaire called and Enjolras opened the door. "Dude, what if I was changing?" Grantaire asked, bottle suspended to pour into a cup. Enjolras just stared, feeling his own anger rise. Grantaire stared back, waiting to see what Enjolras was going to do.

"Do I need to take the door off?" Enjolras asked and Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

"It's just one drink."

"You're an addict, Grantaire; you don't know what 'one drink' looks like. Proven by the bottle in your hand."

"Oh, what does it matter?" Grantaire sighed, finally pouring himself a glass.

"Great first impression on the jury tomorrow. Hung over."

"Get the point across that I'm a mess." Grantaire muttered, putting the bottle down and recapping it.

"Enjolras-" Combeferre entered the room, but Enjolras interrupted him.

"Gets the point across that you're a joke." Enjolras snapped and then forced himself to breathe rather than further explode. Grantaire glanced at him without feeling, making Enjolras's heart pound.

"Enjolras, don't be rude. That's not true, Grantaire." Combeferre interceded, but was ignored.

"Thank you for reminding me." Grantaire commented, staring Enjolras down.

"Enjolras, why don't you go back downstairs?" Combeferre requested, glaring at his friend's back.

"No, I can deal with this." Enjolras insisted, pressing his palms to his eyes and then looking back up to Grantaire.

"Clearly not." Combeferre muttered.

"It's fine, Combeferre; he'll be down in a minute." Grantaire informed him and waved him out of the room. Combeferre gave him a look, but rolled his eyes and did as he was told.

"You're scared." Grantaire finally informed Enjolras, who blinked, watching as Grantaire took a sip of the beer and then crossed the room to hand Enjolras the bottle.

"What?" Enjolras asked, staring at the bottle in his hand.

"You are terrified of losing. You want answers and you want them now. You want to move on." Grantaire chuckled to himself and Enjolras placed the bottle down on his dresser. "You know, it's kind of ironic. No, it's hypocritical. You freak out every time I mention death and yet, your ultimate goal is to die."

"Isn't that everyone's?" Enjolras glared back.

"No. Most people want to find a way to live forever. Or live life to the fullest. Whatever that means." He grumbled out the last statement and turned on his TV with the remote. Enjolras countered this by turning it off on the screen itself.

"I want to grow up. Grow old. That's just me wanting to be normal. You tend to just want to die no matter the age or reason." Enjolras reminded him and Grantaire rolled his eyes.

"Well, wouldn't you?" Grantaire asked and Enjolras narrowed his eyes in confusion. "My situation isn't normal either, remember? I have to live with three separate lives in my head. Two deaths, both somewhat self inflicted. I live with the constant knowledge, now, that if I do a certain thing, this thing is unknown, by the way, I will die only to be brought back once again."

"I'm trying to fix that."

"Yeah, and you're stomping on anyone in your way. You know, your emotions may have faded, but mine are still immature." Grantaire informed him.

"What the hell does that mean?" Enjolras snapped. Grantaire reached over to pick the bottle up again, but Enjolras slammed his hand down on top of it.

"It means that you're oblivious and callous and every bit as much of a robot as 'Ferre is!" Grantaire called out, his voice cracking under the strain of trying to stop himself from speaking.

"I'm oblivious?" Enjolras asked, stepping closer to Grantaire, who stepped away.

"Yes!"

"Callous?"

"Yeah." Grantaire sneered.

"And you're immature." Enjolras finished with a cruel smirk, continuing to walk forward, making Grantaire walk backwards away from him.

"Yeah, well, my teenage years were messed up, leaving me with emotions that remained…teenage." Grantaire tripped over a pile of clothes on his floor.

"You've have several lives to age."

"And yet these emotions remain young. And foolish. It's not like I've ever had a normal childhood. Do me a favor? Next time, save me before my parents mess me up. Or? Even better? Leave me alone! Completely! Every time you come around, you give me bad memories and continue to torment me with your perfect-" Grantaire was cut off by Enjolras grabbing his cheeks and pressing their lips together. Grantaire laced his fingers through Enjolras's hair while Enjolras remained gentle but firm. Finally, Enjolras pulled away, keeping his hands on Grantaire's cheeks and resting his forehead against Grantaire's as they both breathed, eyes shut.

Then Grantaire shoved Enjolras away. Enjolras stumbled over that same pile of clothes, making Grantaire regret not cleaning up better. "Get out." Grantaire demanded.

"Grantaire-"

"Get out." Grantaire repeated, shoving Enjolras out of the room. Enjolras reached in and grabbed the bottle before Grantaire could shut the door on him. Enjolras breathed roughly, leaning his forehead against the door as he tried to calm himself. Grantaire paced back and forth in his room, hands shaking. Eventually, Enjolras headed back downstairs, throwing the bottle in the trash cans outside rather than leave them in the house where Grantaire could get to it again.

He entered the living room where the rest of the family was sitting watching TV. They looked at him and he sighed, sitting down between Courfeyrac and Feuilly. 


	19. Let Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They head off to court.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you look closely, mentions of rape and racism.

_"Too many sharks; not enough blood in the waves"_

_-"Irresistible" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New Rochelle-New York City, New York**

Grantaire woke up the next morning to see Enjolras sitting beside him, going over his legal pad once more. Blinking, Grantaire realized he was in Enjolras's bed, luckily still clothed. Then he remembered crawling into Enjolras's bed the night before. However, Enjolras hadn't been in the bed at that time and the bed had been cold. But it smelled good, like Enjolras.

"You up?" Enjolras asked and Grantaire just looked at him. "Yeah, I found you like this earlier this morning. I considered going to your room, but my bed's comfier. And with you in it, warmer." He finished and Grantaire wondered if that was Enjolras's attempt at flirting.

"You're strong enough to carry me back to bed." Grantaire commented, continuing this madness rather than facing the day.

"Ah, but that wouldn't be respecting your personal space." Enjolras informed him and Grantaire raised an eyebrow as Enjolras immediately turned red.

"Which you were so good at last night." Grantaire muttered and stood, stretching.

"Courfeyrac's getting an outfit ready in your room. I told him no makeup. Figured you'd appreciate that." Enjolras muttered under his breath as he leafed through the legal pad.

"You're getting makeup, though, right? To hide the wounds that aren't there?" Grantaire smirked and Enjolras nodded slowly without looking up.

"Go get ready." He instructed and Grantaire sighed, but did as he was told.

"Grantaire!" Courfeyrac sang and Grantaire covered one ear at the high pitched squeal. "I heard you shower last night, so just put this on. I'll help you tie the tie." Courfeyrac held out a bluish tinted suit with a white collared shirt and a silver tie draped over the shoulders.

"I know how to tie a tie." Grantaire grumbled.

"We're going to make you a typical boy next door rather than an asshole." Courfeyrac commented, flitting around the room.

"What's-no, you know what? Never mind." Grantaire decided against asking for a definition. "Wait, did you just call me an asshole?" He called as Courfeyrac skipped out of the room to make up Enjolras's perfect face so that it would look less perfect.

When he was dressed, he stepped into Enjolras's room where Enjolras was scowling as Courfeyrac patted his face down with makeup. Courfeyrac was humming something that suspiciously sounded like "Seize the Day" from Newsies. "I'm ready!" Grantaire called desperately. Courfeyrac looked to him, shoving the brush he was using up Enjolras's nose.

"No, you're not. What's with your face?" Courfeyrac asked and Grantaire gave him a look, patting his face in confusion while Enjolras rolled his eyes.

"It's my normal face."

"Shave your face." Courfeyrac returned the look and turned back to Enjolras, who had shoved his hand away.

"I have a baby face when it's shaved." Grantaire whined.

"Whatever makes you look more innocent." Courfeyrac shrugged and Grantaire practically stomped his foot in disapproval.

"And in jail, I'll look like a good option for someone's b-"

"I like his beard." Enjolras interrupted and Grantaire gritted his teeth together, looking to the floor and going back to his room rather than respond to Enjolras's sudden decision to be kind.

"It's not actually a beard, though. It's just a five o'clock shadow. All hours of the day." Grantaire heard Courfeyrac respond and then giggle to himself, and Grantaire rolled his eyes, shaving as he had been instructed.

Downstairs, Combeferre had woken up early enough to make breakfast for everyone. Once Courfeyrac had finally claimed that Enjolras and Grantaire were beautiful-which only happened after Grantaire's tie was retied- they all went down to eat. Enjolras had been given a blue shirt and a black tie to match his suit.

Courfeyrac continued skipping around the kitchen, cleaning, serving and eventually eating while dancing. Enjolras was speaking a hundred miles per hour, reciting his opening statement, his argument, his opinion on the case, how they'd do, the weather and so on. Watching this, Grantaire drummed his fingers against the table, refusing to eat due to his fluttering stomach. However, Combeferre sat quietly, eating and 'hmm'ing to Enjolras when Enjolras paused long enough to warrant a response.

"How are you so calm?" Enjolras finally asked his friend.

"Nerves never helped anything." Combeferre shrugged and Enjolras rolled his eyes.

"You're going to explode." Courfeyrac commented.

"Been there, done that. What's this?" Combeferre pointed to something on Enjolras's legal pad and the ranting continued. With a smirk that only Grantaire saw, Combeferre went back to his eggs.

"Enjolras, do we have any chance of winning?" Grantaire asked him as they got into the car.

"We can do this. We'll win." Enjolras announced and Grantaire could hear the lie dripping from his lips.

"Idealistic." Grantaire breathed.

"Better than critical." Feuilly pointed out and Grantaire glanced at him with worried eyes, but accepted it. Combeferre was driving separately, so Courfeyrac was sitting up front with Feuilly while Enjolras and Grantaire went over questions in the back seat.

When they reached the courthouse, Combeferre stopped Enjolras from walking in with his tie loose. Then, they all went through a security system, forcing Enjolras to be patted down because he forgot to take the pen out of his pocket. Grantaire was then chosen for a 'random search' while the prosecutors from before watched a little ways away. Silently Grantaire wondered what defendant would try to walk into a courthouse with a weapon. But then he remembered, of course, a black one! He stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

"Do you think we can win this?" Grantaire asked Combeferre once they were booth through security and waiting for Feuilly and Courfeyrac to get through. Out of anyone, Grantaire was sure he could get a realistic reply from Combeferre.

"In light of the evidence presented, what would you say?" Combeferre inquired and Grantaire inhaled sharply.

"I say live and let live." Grantaire replied, feeling as if that alone could convict him. Combeferre was silent for a moment.

"I believe that it depends entirely upon the jury." Combeferre answered and Grantaire cursed him silently. That could literally be said about every single case. Ever.

"They look like they want to kill me." Grantaire whispered as he watched the prosecutors finally walk off to the courtroom.

"That's because they do." Combeferre responded and Grantaire glared at him, but didn't say any more on the matter as Enjolras led him into the courtroom, walking swiftly with his head held as high as it had been when he walked in on Grantaire's original case.

When they were both seated at the table, waiting for the judge to arrive, Grantaire looked to Enjolras from the corner of his eye. "Enjolras?" He whispered.

"Hm?" Enjolras responded.

"Are you nervous?" Grantaire asked and Enjolras gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand underneath the table. Grantaire considered wrenching his hand away, but decided against it, taking whatever support he could get. A few more seconds went by. "Enjolras?" Grantaire called again a little more desperately and Enjolras glanced at him with the same smile as if trying to remain brave. "Is your first name really Tyson?"

Before Enjolras could answer, the bailiff called for order and they all stood.


	20. Divide Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire meets the first witness for the prosecution's side and sees Enjolras in action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Panic attack, and PTSD mentioned

_"The blood of the lamb_

_It's worth two lions, but here I am"_

_-"Uma Thurman" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New York City, New York**

The prosecutor did a spiel, then Enjolras did a spiel. Then the prosecutor did another shorter spiel and was followed up again by Enjolras's equally short spiel. In all honesty, Grantaire understood very little of what was going on, but he was pretty sure that the prosecutor's name was Carter. Meanwhile, Grantaire was having a heart attack. In the previous trial, he hadn't cared this much, but he supposed that was because he already knew what was going to happen. Here, he had the chance at freedom. But he couldn't dare get his hopes up. No. Of course not.

Finally, they both sat down and the prosecution was told to 'call their first witness'. Grantaire was blanking, but he was pretty sure he remembered Enjolras mentioning that phrase. In walked Sergeant Charles Campbell. Grantaire could hear his heart pound and shook, squeezing his eyes shut. Enjolras placed his hand on Grantaire's shoulder.

"Does the defendant need a doctor, Mr. Enjolras?" The judge asked and Grantaire felt the world spin, but he shook his head.

"No, your honor." Enjolras informed him and finally managed to make Grantaire focus.

"You didn't tell me who their witnesses are." Grantaire whispered.

"Sorry." Enjolras responded, not sounding all that sorry. Looking up, they realized that the questioning had begun.

"I heard gunshots and screaming." Campbell responded to a question that Grantaire hadn't heard.

"And what happened next?"

"I entered the cabin to find Grantaire holding a gun and three of my men down."

"Were any of these men still alive?" The prosecutor asked and Grantaire fought the urge to mimic the prosecutor's oh-so-interested tone.

"No. They were all shot in the head." Grantaire tried to stay attentive, but he had been through this story so many times in his head and aloud to other people that it wasn't something he particularly felt like reliving. Occasionally, Enjolras would stand up and object to something in legalese, which peaked and then lost Grantaire's interest as the legal terms were tossed around.

Eventually, Enjolras stood and walked away from the table. Grantaire wanted to go crawling after him, whimpering 'don't leave me'. "May I proceed?" Enjolras asked the judge.

"Yes."

"Sergeant Campbell, you were the first to see Grantaire after the death of the three soldiers, correct?" Enjolras asked.

"Yes."

"Did you see Mr. Grantaire's face?"

"Yes."

"Can you recall what his demeanor was?"

"I'm sorry?"

"What was Mr. Grantaire's facial expression when you walked in?" Enjolras reworded.

"I don't remember."

"What was he doing when you entered the room?" Enjolras asked.

"Sitting in a pool of blood." Campbell replied.

"Just sitting there?"

"Objection, council has already asked this question." Carter announced and Grantaire thought back to when this had occurred.

"Council?" The judge looked to Enjolras with raised eyebrow. Grantaire wished he could at least look like he was awake.

"I'll move on, your honor." Enjolras gave the judge a charming smile that Grantaire saw curse words in.

"Do so." The judge muttered out.

"When you were taking Grantaire to the temporary holding cell, did he fight back?"

"No, but-"

"Did he say anything at this time?"

"Objection, anything said at this time-"

"Counts as an excited utterance." Enjolras interrupted Carter and Grantaire stopped himself from smirking because the judge looked irritated. Still, Enjolras didn't back down.

"Maintain composure in my courtroom, Mr. Enjolras." The judge requested and Enjolras's face remained blank.

"Yes, your honor."

"Overruled." He finished and Grantaire looked down at the paper in front of him to see that that had meant whatever Carter was about to say wasn't going to be considered.

"Mr. Campbell, did Mr. Grantaire say anything while you were taking him to the holding cell?" Enjolras repeated and Grantaire wondered why that wasn't being brought up as something already asked seeing as it actually _was_ already asked.

"Nothing I could understand."

"Were noises coming from his lips?" Enjolras asked, sounding slightly condescending.

"Yes. He was whimpering something." Campbell informed Enjolras. And the jury. And everyone else in the court. Grantaire could feel his face turning red.

"What was Grantaire whimpering?" Enjolras asked.

"I don’t-"

"Asked and answered." Carter stood up.

"Sustained." Grantaire's cheat sheet said that Carter was right.

"Does Grantaire have any history of being violent that you are aware of?" Enjolras asked Campbell.

"No, but-"

"Do you have a history of being violent?" Enjolras smirked up at Campbell, though it was hidden in a pleasant smile.

"Relevance." Carter stood.

"Council?" The judge looked to Enjolras for an excuse.

"I am laying foundation for further questions, your honor." Enjolras informed him and the judge pressed his lips together.

"I'm overruling for now, but if it isn't made clear as to where this is going within the next few questions, you have permission to restate your objection, Mr. Carter." The judge announced.

"Can you please answer the question, Mr. Campbell?" Enjolras asked in his sweetest, venom dripping voice.

"I have nothing on my record, no." Campbell replied.

"A history then. Have you ever physically assaulted Mr. Grantaire?" Enjolras demanded and Grantaire looked up to him to see where this was going.

"Excuse me?"

"Answer the question, Mr. Campbell." Enjolras demanded.

"No, I haven't." Campbell informed him with disgust plain in his voice.

"Then why, Mr. Campbell, did my client have a panic attack at the defense table when you walked into the courtroom today?" Enjolras inquired and Grantaire felt his face turn bright red again.

"I don't know. That's some medical problem of his own, I guess." Campbell replied and Grantaire raised an eyebrow, guessing that that was what Enjolras wanted.

"Thank you. No further questions, your honor." Enjolras gave the judge a triumphant smile.

"Redirect?" The judge asked Carter, who stood.

"Yes, your honor. What medical problems does the defendant have, Sergeant Campbell?" Carter asked.

"Objection, your honor, this witness does not have any personal knowledge as to my client's medical history." Enjolras remarked and the judge nodded.

"Sustained."

"Do you know of your own reputation at your base?"

"Your honor-" Enjolras stood, but the judge waved him away.

"Sustained." Finally, Carter managed to get a question in and Enjolras gave Grantaire a small smile.

" _He never hit me._ " Grantaire wrote on his cheat sheet.

" _I know. PTSD._ " Enjolras wrote back.

"Wonderful." Grantaire muttered under his breath.

Finally, Campbell left the stand, going to sit behind Carter. Carter's partner in crime stood up and announced, "Prosecution calls Eponine Thenardier to the stand."


	21. Partner in Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Court case continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of suicidal intention.

_"The bulls are sedated and this fight's fixed"_

_-"West Coast Smoker" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New York City, New York**

Grantaire's heart stopped. He was dead. He was dead and he was sure of it, so why was he still thinking about it? Grantaire looked at Enjolras, knowing to be less conspicuous about his lack of knowledge regarding a witness this time. For all Grantaire knew, Enjolras could be breaking the same rules Markson broke by not informing him who the witnesses were. Enjolras avoided eye contact.

Instead, they both stared forward at Eponine, who was being sworn in. Finally, she sat down.

"How do you know Mr. Grantaire?" Davie asked. At least, Grantaire thought someone called him that at some point. Oh well, he was Davie now.

"I heard about his case coming to court and with Enjolras as a friend, I knew that Markson had a reputation of not informing his clients of their rights. So I told Enjolras about it."

"And Enjolras immediately jumped on the case?"

"Objection, leading question on direct examination." Enjolras stood.

"Council?" The judge looked to Davie.

"I'll rephrase."

"Please do."

"Why did you think Mr. Enjolras would take this case?"

"Enjolras is a stickler for justice and he needed a case as a budding lawyer." Eponine explained.

"And how do you know Enjolras?" Davie asked and Enjolras winced, knowing that he should have caught that objection without Davie placing it in his lap.

"We both have parents from France. We all tend to congregate." Eponine shrugged.

"Directing your attention to Exhibit A. Do you recognize this?"

"Yes." Eponine looked behind her at a picture that had been blown up to show the details of it. Grantaire only just noticed this now and felt stupid because it was his own writing.

"How?"

"It was left in a paper bag on my front door step."

"What is it?" Davie asked Eponine.

"Grantaire's journal."

"How do you know this?"

"It had his signature in the front cover."

"When you received this journal, how much of it did you read?" Davie asked and Enjolras stood.

"I object to the relevance of such a question." Enjolras remarked.

"Council?" The judge looked at Davie.

"I am laying foundation for further questions." Davie replied.

"Overruled."

"Please answer the question, Ms. Thenardier."

"I scanned through a few of the earlier pages and then read this entry, which was the last. I figured that it was most likely why the notebook was being hand delivered to my front porch." Eponine rushed the last sentence, clearly aware of the fact that the prosecution may or may not have planted this evidence.

"There was nothing else in the notebook after this entry?" Davie asked.

"There was some dirt." Eponine offered and Grantaire heard someone cough to hide laughter.

"Please read this letter aloud to the court." Davie requested and Eponine did as she was told, mentioning the line that was scratched out though Davie hadn't asked. Enjolras smiled. Grantaire felt extremely hot and wiped at his cheek, his hand coming away wet. Enjolras looked at him with worry in his eyes, but Grantaire gave a miniscule shake of his head.

"In your layman opinion, what do you think about think about the overall tone of this letter?"

"Distressed." Eponine responded, raising an eyebrow as she stared Davie down.

"You see the numbers next to the lines?" Davie asked and Grantaire saw Eponine attempt to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"Yes."

"Please read line four up to the end of the second sentence."

"-children are dead because of us and now they're celebrating. They're being rewarded and honored."

"In your opinion, which is influenced by your work as a soldier and your knowledge of the law, what does this statement portray?" Davie asked and Eponine looked down at her hands.

"Motive." She replied somewhat quietly.

"Motive for what?"

"Motive to kill." Eponine finished, staring determinedly down at Davie, who smiled back charmingly. Grantaire winced.

"Jumping to line six, the sentence starting in the middle of the line to the end of the second sentence. Please read." Davie requested and Eponine sighed.

" _They're all drunk in there. I can smell the fumes, I would know."_ Eponine read.

"In your opinion, which is influenced by your work as a soldier and your knowledge of the law, what does this say about Mr. Grantaire here especially focusing on the last three words, 'I would know'?"

"He's a drunkard."

"And going to the seventh line, please read the first two complete sentences."

" _We killed. And now, we deserve to die."_ Eponine read and pressed her lips together.

"In your opinion, which is influenced by your work as a soldier and your knowledge of the law, what does this statement portray?" Grantaire was getting annoyed with Davie's repetition.

"Premeditation." Eponine responded, clearly having been forced to answer as such.

"As a soldier, should Grantaire have allowed those children to die?"

"It wasn't his decision to make." Eponine answered and he raised an eyebrow at her. This wasn't what they had rehearsed, Grantaire realized.

"Every man has the right to speak his mind, correct?"

"Yes, but-"

"Thank you, Ms. Thenardier. Should Mr. Grantaire have reported this loss of lives to his commanding officer?" Davie quickly changed the subject.

"Objection, your honor, Mr. Davie is crossing his own witness." Enjolras reported and the judge nodded.

"I agree. No more leading questions, council. Allow Ms. Thenardier to speak for herself."

"Yes, your honor." Davie replied and turned back to Eponine. "What should Grantaire have done after the deaths in the building?"

"Reported to his commanding officer." Eponine bit her lip and gave the world's quickest flat look to Enjolras.

"Is there any reason why Grantaire should have killed his own men?"

"No." Eponine replied, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

"Thank you. No further questions."

Enjolras stood and Eponine gave him a small smile.

"Miss Thenardier. Directing your attention to line four as Mr. Davie did, please read this line to the end of the sentence beginning on four." Enjolras instructed Eponine and Grantaire didn't quite understand, but apparently Eponine had practiced this.

"- _children are dead because of us and now they're celebrating. They're being rewarded and honored. I'm being rewarded and honored for killing children_."

"In light of the last sentence being added to this statement, what would you determine the tone to be, with your work as a soldier and your knowledge of the law?" Enjolras asked Eponine.

"Hopeless and factual."

"In the seventh line, after it says ' _we killed_ ', what does the next sentence say?"

" _And now, we deserve to die_."

"Did Mr. Grantaire write 'they' deserve to die?" Enjolras asked.

"No. 'We'." Eponine replied and Grantaire gritted his teeth together.

"Miss Thenardier, as a soldier, have you ever taken risky steps to ensure a greater purpose is fulfilled?"

"Yes."

"And is this common in warfare?"

"Yes."

"Did Grantaire, as a private surrounded by corporals and E-3's, have any say in what happened regarding the building exploding?"

"Yes."

"Please explain."

"All of them would have had to consent to take part in such an action."

"Is there such thing as peer pressure throughout soldier ranks?" Enjolras questioned.

"Yes."

"If Grantaire had come forth with the information that he and several other soldiers had killed innocent men, do you believe anyone would hear him out?"

"No."

"Why is that?"

"Based on the attitudes expressed by the other soldiers, at least as they were represented in this journal, they most likely would've denied any knowledge of the innocents inside the building. And like I've said, risky actions are often taken in warfare. It would be blown off as a mistake."

"Do you know who placed this journal on your front door step?"

"No."

"Why do you think they would turn it in to you?"

"Because I know you and I would show it to you."

"Why would it be important to show me the journal before handing it over to the court?"

"Because you would be then forced to turn it into the court yourself. I personally believe that they were testing your truthfulness in court."

"How so?"

"They wanted to see if you would actually turn in the journal or keep it for yourself."

"Objection, Ms. Thenardier is testifying to the honesty and veracity of the defendant's attorney rather than the defendant himself and Mr. Enjolras is not on trial today despite his guilty conscience." Davie announced and Grantaire saw Enjolras tense. This is what he had been expecting. So somehow, Grantaire was sure that Enjolras wanted this to come out. However, Grantaire wasn't sure what the point of this was.

"Are you implying that Mr. Enjolras has reason to be on trial?" The judge asked, apparently unable to quell his curiosity.

"Well, he did kill a man." Davie replied and the judge stared him down for a few seconds.

"Overruled. Council, move on." The judge remarked and Grantaire bit his cheeks to keep from grinning like an idiot.

"Miss Thenardier, can you please read line three?" Enjolras asked.

"Um, it starts with the word 'we' and then there's a large portion scratched out."

"When you received this journal, how deep was the ink pressed into the page here?" Enjolras questioned on.

"The ink tore through to the next page."

"In your layman opinion, what do you believe was the mindset of Mr. Grantaire while writing this?"

"Distressed. Frantic." Eponine replied and Enjolras nodded.

"Thank you. No further questions." Enjolras gave the judge a smile.

Davie stood back up, but Grantaire only heard his heart pounding in his ears as Enjolras sat down and glanced at him. He stared back blankly.

"Does the word 'we' in any way imply singularity?"

"No." Eponine responded.

"So, it would be referring to the men in the cabin celebrating, in light of the context?"

"And Grantaire, himself, yes." Eponine answered and Davie sighed, dismissing her.

 Next up was Corporal Janet Wilbur. Grantaire knew of her. She was nice and occasionally would strike up a conversation, but she had never been particularly prominent in Grantaire's life. Then again, Grantaire's friends were probably all dead, so there weren't many other people that Grantaire may or may not have annoyed to choose from.

"Corporal Wilbur, what was Mr. Grantaire's demeanor when you saw him at dinner that night?"

"Grantaire looked upset, but alert." Wilbur replied.

"Did Mr. Grantaire sit with anyone at the dinner table that night?"

"No." Wilbur replied and Grantaire thought back to the dinner before killing his cabin mates. He had been sitting with his cabin mates, who were already nearing drunk. Grantaire wrote this down for Enjolras.

"Does Mr. Grantaire normally sit with others?"

"Yes, he normally sits with his cabin mates." Wilbur answered and Grantaire tuned out. Lies and crap. Eventually, Enjolras stood and cross-examined her, making sure that she repeated that Grantaire was sitting alone in different words before sitting back down. Once again, Carter blubbered out a few words for a redirect and sat down, dismissing the witness.


	22. Making War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Case continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of PTSD and suicidal thoughts.  
> I'm sorry for any trial or army-lingo that I have messed up on in these few chapters. Feel free to let me know if any of them are awful and stand out. I can't promise that I will be able to change them, but I'll try my best.

_"You ought to keep me concealed just like I was a weapon_

_I didn't come for a fight but I will fight till the end_

_And this one might be a battle, might not turn out okay"_

_-"Irresistible" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New York City, New York**

Enjolras called Grantaire to the witness stand and Grantaire slowly walked up, feeling his heart pounding. He was sworn in and tripped on the step up to the witness stand, making him feel rather stupid. 

"What are your occupation and accreditations, Mr. Grantaire?" Enjolras then went through the usual line of questioning that Grantaire had grown accustomed to, having memorized most of what Enjolras wanted to know word for word. However, where Enjolras usually stopped asking questions, he continued.

"Do you remember writing this journal entry?" He asked and Grantaire glanced at the writing behind him.

"Yes." Grantaire's voice cracked.

"What were you doing while writing this?"

"Barfing into the toilet." Grantaire answered.

"Please read the first complete sentence in line two to the end of the line." Enjolras requested and Grantaire obeyed.

" _But there were children. Maybe they were going to die anyway. But we killed them. We did._ _"_

"Are you aware of the overall guilt a person is burdened with upon knowing that they killed children?"

"Yeah, I've felt that guilt. Hence the barfing into a toilet and this trial today." Grantaire replied, feeling somewhat braver when Enjolras refrained from rolling his eyes.

"Directing your attention to line seven. Please begin reading at the first complete sentence in that line onto the end of the next sentence." Enjolras requested and Grantaire felt himself pale.

 _"_ _And now, we deserve to die. Myself included, though I suppose I wasn't precisely the initial decider of death._ _"_

"While writing this entry, did you have a gun with you?"

"No. It was in the drawer next to my bed."

"And you were in the bathroom?"

"Yes."

"While writing this entry, did you plan to kill the men outside the bathroom door?"

"No."

"What were you thinking while writing this line?"

"That if anyone back home figured out what we had done, we'd be dishonorably discharged."

"After killing the men in your cabin, why did you not kill yourself in light of this entry?"

"I didn't exactly make that connection. I wasn't thinking straight."

"Have you ever had suicidal thoughts?" Enjolras questioned and Grantaire clenched his teeth together, his eyes blurring over with tears. "Grantaire, please answer the question."

"Yes." Grantaire finally exhaled, his voice cracking once more.

"Did they start occurring to you before or after killing those men?"

"Before. Directly after we blew up the building." Grantaire explained, focusing on Enjolras rather than even consider what the others in the court were thinking.

"Did you ever attempt suicide from the time in which you were placed in the holding cell to today?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I was never given the chance." Grantaire replied.

"Now, I want you to think carefully about this, Mr. Grantaire. Barnes was pounding on the door to the bathroom, telling you to join in the festivities. Do you remember walking out of the bathroom?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember getting your gun?"

"No."

"Do you remember aiming at and killing your cabin mates?"

"No."

"Do you remember Sergeant Campbell entering the room?"

"I remember hearing the door open and feeling someone pull me out of the room and into the holding cell." Grantaire replied.

"Do you remember speaking to the Sergeant or anyone in the holding cell?"

"No."

"Why did you have a panic attack when Sergeant entered court today?"

"He brought back the memory of sitting in a pool of blood of men I had just killed." Grantaire whispered, but the microphone picked up his voice nonetheless.

"Do you know Roger Delaney?"

"No." Grantaire answered, trying to remember why that name sounded familiar.

"Do you remember the plane ride home?"

"No." Grantaire realized as he thought hard back to how he got from his base to a jail cell in the United States. He breathed roughly.

"You were present during Ms. Janet Wilbur's testimony, correct?" Enjolras asked, changing the subject. Grantaire took a few seconds.

"Yes."

"Where were you sitting at dinner when she claimed that you were sitting alone?"

"I was sitting with my cabin mates. They were being rowdy and pushing me around, so I went to the cabin early and got sick."

"Did you ever intend to kill the soldiers in your cabin?"

"No."

"No further questions." Enjolras sat down and Grantaire could feel Carter's excitement at finally being released onto him. Silently, Grantaire begged Enjolras to take him home.

"May I proceed?" Carter asked.

"Yes."

"Mr. Grantaire, had you ever even considered yourself having PTSD before Mr. Enjolras suggested it to you?"

"No." Grantaire answered, knowing that Enjolras would go over all this again in his redirect.

"What ever happened to the soldier with the metal in his eye missing a limb?" The prosecutor asked and Enjolras inhaled sharply.

"I shot him." Grantaire replied.

"What did Mr. Enjolras say to convince you to plead not guilty after the initial plea of guilty?" Carter asked.

"He reminded me that I had something to live for." Grantaire answered.

"And what's that?"

"Passion." Grantaire replied.

"What do you mean?"

"Enjolras is extremely passionate about what he does. I'm sure you've noticed. I used to be passionate about my work as a soldier before the enchantment wore off."

"Why did you have a journal with you in the bathroom?" Carter asked and Grantaire narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"I carried it everywhere. And I was trying to distract myself by writing in it."

"Did it work?" Carter raised an eyebrow.

"No, actually. I've found that ranting rarely actually calms anyone down." Grantaire informed him.

"Please read the first two sentences of your journal entry."

" _In all honesty, our actions today probably stopped a lot of deaths. Those men could have killed so many more than the ones we killed to kill them_."

"So, you admit that the course of actions taken by the soldiers you murdered were justified?"

"Yes."

"On line three, what was written here before it was scratched out?"

"I don't remember." Grantaire shrugged.

"You don't remember?"

"No."

"You remember writing the rest of this entry?"

"Yes."

"On line four, please read the last sentence that finishes on line five."

" _I'm being rewarded and honored for killing children._ "

"Would you have accepted any such reward?"

"Objection, this is a hypothetical question that is badgering my client." Enjolras cut in.

"Overruled." The judge commented and Grantaire inhaled sharply.

"I was actually planning my death." Grantaire admitted.

"Can you answer my question, please?"

"No, because I'd be dead." Grantaire stopped from raising his voice, but heard it crack.

"Why didn't you speak up to stop the building from being blown up?"

"We had been searching for those men for years after many of their victims found dead or alive, and thoroughly tortured for information. Or just molested when it involved children."

"After murdering the men in your cabin, why didn't you take your own life?" Carter asked.

"While being actually aware of what was going on around me, I didn't get a chance." Grantaire responded.

"No further questions." Carter finally announced and Enjolras stood.

"Redirect, your honor?" Enjolras asked.

"You may proceed." The judge replied.

"Why had PTSD never occurred to you as an explanation for your hallucinations and panic attacks?" Enjolras asked.

"I was much more focused on searching for a time to die; I didn’t care what was wrong with me." Grantaire replied and Enjolras winced.

"Why did you shoot that soldier on your first mission?" Enjolras asked Grantaire.

"He was crying out to us. I couldn't go try to save his life, but leaving him there seemed cruel. I put him out of his misery."

"Why don't you remember what you had written before scratching it out on line three of the journal entry?"

"I don't know. I think my doctor told me that PTSD causes moments of forgetfulness within stress." Grantaire suggested, guessing that that was what Enjolras wanted from him.

"Thank you. No further questions. May the defendant be dismissed?" Enjolras asked and Grantaire sat still until the judge consented and he was escorted back to his seat by the bailiff.


	23. Remember Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Case continued and closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Description of PTSD.

_"I wish I'd known how much you loved me  
I wish I cared enough to know"_

_-"Fourth of July" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New York City, New York**

Enjolras, however, remained standing. "Defense calls Roger Delaney to the stand." He announced and Grantaire blinked.

"You got other witnesses?" Grantaire whispered.

"Of course I did, what did you think I do when I stay up late at night?" Enjolras muttered back.

"Stare at Combeferre." Grantaire shrugged and Enjolras rolled his eyes, standing straighter again to face Delaney. He asked about his background and who he was in general, which helped Grantaire because now he understood why he had been asked about Robert Delaney.

"I accompanied Mr. Grantaire on the plane heading to the U.S. once he was dishonorably discharged." Delaney replied.

"And what was his demeanor?"

"His eyes were glazed over the entire time. I asked him-"

"Objection, hearsay." Davie stood up and Delaney looked from Enjolras to Davie and back again.

"May I be heard?" Enjolras cut in.

"Go ahead, council."

"Delaney is laying foundation for what occurred next when approaching my client. This is not to demonstrate whether or not Grantaire intended to kill, but to further show his demeanor after such events." Enjolras explained.

"Not for the truth of the matter. Okay, sustained."

"Please continue, Mr. Delaney." Enjolras motioned to the man.

"I asked Grantaire if he needed medical assistance, but he never responded, so we had our men do a quick checkup."

"And to your knowledge, what did this checkup reveal?"

"Grantaire was physically fine other than a high pulse rate. He was even tested for drugs and alcohol and none were present."

"Have you ever seen a soldier act like this before?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Normally, it's when a soldier has to be held down to keep from injuring himself or others that his eyes will glaze over and his body will stiffen. Medically speaking, a panic attack brought on by PTSD."

"Did Mr. Grantaire need to be held down?"

"No, he was handcuffed, but didn't fight back. He rarely moved at all." Delaney explained and Enjolras nodded.

"Did you know why you were transporting Grantaire?" Enjolras asked.

"He was dishonorably discharged. That's all I was told."

"Thank you, no further questions." Enjolras finished and sat down again. Carter stood and asked Delaney some questions about a lack of a medical degree and Enjolras countered it easily with redirect and then they moved on.

Last came Dr. Walker. He was pretty much there to tell Enjolras that, yep, that's a sign of PTSD. Oh that little scratch mark right there? PTSD. Delaney? Who dat? Well, yeah, he's right; PTSD. His cross examination and redirect were pretty much the same, but Carter focused more on what wasn't PTSD and how Walker wasn't a handwriting expert.

Then, Enjolras and Davie took turns saying some more spiels. Grantaire wished that they would just get to the verdict. Still, there was a break afterwards in which the jury went away to make a decision.

"Eponine?"

"She was subpoenaed. Overall, I think she helped the case." Enjolras informed him and Grantaire bit his lip, but didn't over think it.

"Why'd you let him bring up last week?"

"To paint him as biased against me." Enjolras explained. Under the table, Grantaire grabbed Enjolras's hand, squeezing it tight as they waited for the jury to return.

Finally, they emerged and sat back down. The statement was read pronouncing Grantaire guilty. Grantaire covered his mouth as tears pooled up in his eyes. Enjolras remained frozen. The judge then went on to read the sentence, which was life in prison. Once court was adjourned, Enjolras watched in disbelief as Grantaire was handcuffed and led out of the room. Then he snapped back into reality and rushed after them.

"Can I have a minute with him? Alone?" Enjolras requested and the police officers looked to each other.

"It's against regulation-" One started, but was interrupted by the other's hand on his shoulder. He gestured with his nose to Grantaire dead stare that remained desperate for Enjolras and Enjolras's clearly loving but broken eyes.

"You may take Mr. Grantaire to the bathroom while we stand guard." The second officer answered, taking off the handcuffs and Enjolras thanked them, pulling Grantaire into the empty bathroom. Enjolras wrapped his arms around Grantaire and kissed him thoroughly. Grantaire grunted and pulled away, his hands on Enjolras's cheeks as he blinked back tears.

"If this is pity, I swear-" Enjolras grabbed Grantaire's cheeks in turn, growling slightly as he kissed Grantaire and Grantaire finally allowed himself to wrap his arms around Enjolras.

"When have you ever known me to display pity?" Enjolras breathed roughly as he pressed his forehead to Grantaire's. Grantaire choked back a sob.

"I'm never going to see you again." Grantaire whimpered.

"I will see you as often as I can." Enjolras insisted, his eyes filling as well.

"Enjolras." Grantaire breathed out as he nuzzled his face into Enjolras's neck, holding him tightly.

"I love you." Enjolras informed him and Grantaire whimpered. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I should've told you earlier. I should've realized earlier. I don't-I can't-"

"Shh." Grantaire rocked him slightly in his arms.

"It was fixed. I'm sure of it." Enjolras remarked and Grantaire covered his mouth with his hand.

"Don't say that. Not now. At least I'm getting some punishment for what happened with the building." And for killing my own men, Grantaire added inwardly. It may have been PTSD and it may have been justified, but in all honesty, he felt that he deserved punishment. The few days with Enjolras were nice, but he needed to reenter reality.

"That wasn't your fault."

"Please, Enjolras, just let it go." Grantaire begged and Enjolras pulled away to look at him with tears in his eyes. He swiped at a tear on Grantaire's cheek and then gave him a small smile.

"I will visit as often as I can." He told Grantaire, who took his hand and kissed it.

Finally, they reemerged and the policemen re-cuffed him, hauling him off to jail.


	24. Constellation of Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inevitable happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major character death that could be suicide or murder, but no description. Depression.

_"I will never believe in anything again_

_Though change will come..._

_Kick drum beating in my chest again_

_We will never believe again_

_Preach electric to a microphone stand"_

_-"(Coffee's For Closers)" by Fall Out Boy_

**2005, New Rochelle, New York**

"I think it's because he was black." Enjolras announced as he looked through his paperwork.

"How many times did you tell him off for saying that?" Joly muttered.

"That's all I can get from this. I mean, you were there. There is no logical reason why he was convicted."

"People are scared. And remember that for a while, all disorders were viewed as dangerous, so those people may have realized that yes, he has a disorder, and that makes him unsafe. PTSD doesn't always get you into an asylum, so they decide jail time works."

Courfeyrac came padding down the stairs and hopped over the couch to sit practically on top of Joly. "Where's Combeferre?" He asked randomly.

"Kitchen on the phone." Enjolras replied as Joly pushed Courfeyrac off of himself. "Maybe the prosecution paid off the jury."

"Enjolras." Combeferre had entered the room.

"That would reopen the trial if not get the entire thing suspended. You guys heard Carter; didn't he sound shifty?"

"Enjolras."

"I'm thinking, Combeferre, wait. Grantaire kind of wanted to be quote unquote punished for what he did even though he wasn't in his right frame of mind. Shouldn't that make everything he said inadmissible? Because he's crazy, right?"

"Enjolras, listen to me." Combeferre had knelt down on the floor beside Enjolras where he sat at the desk. Enjolras narrowed his eyes and stared at Combeferre, waiting. "Grantaire is dead." Enjolras began muttering beneath his breath as he shuffled through his papers again, more violently. "Enjolras? Did you hear me?"

"How'd he die?" Enjolras demanded.

"Suicide. Hung himself with his bed sheets."

"How'd he manage that?" Enjolras shrieked and sent the pencil holder flying across the room. "I don't believe it. I don't. They killed him and then made it look like a suicide. Do they have a tape? I bet they don't. I bet it malfunctioned at the exact time in which Grantaire hung himself because he was just that knowledgeable of what was going on in the prison."

"Enjolras, calm down." Combeferre demanded, standing up as Enjolras began pacing across the room, kicking things out of his way and randomly tossing the couch pillows into the air, at someone or at a wall.

"Don't you tell me to calm down! What the hell? They took information out of the case to use against him. We said that he was suicidal and they used that. That stupid journal entry." Combeferre grabbed Enjolras's shoulders to keep him still and Enjolras grabbed Combeferre's in response, as if sharing his excitement. "We need to figure out who sent it to Eponine. That was a murder attempt. They killed Grantaire. I bet you they-" Combeferre covered his mouth and he kept talking for a few seconds before realizing and stopping. Then he began to sob, falling into Combeferre's arms.

That night, Enjolras got drunk. Not slap-happy Joly drunk, but depressed, knock yourself out and wake up in vomit drunk like Grantaire. A week later, Enjolras was still a complete mess.

"Enjolras." Combeferre knocked on the door, but there was no response. Enjolras had locked himself in without any account to where Combeferre was going to sleep. "Let me in." Combeferre called through the door and finally, Enjolras opened it.

"I don't feel like it." Enjolras informed Combeferre, who blinked.

"I didn't say anything." Combeferre remarked.

"Well, whatever you're here for, I don't feel like it." Enjolras continued and Combeferre walked over to take the beer bottle off of Enjolras's bedside table. He started to walk back down to the kitchen, but decided against it, stopping in the doorway.

"Cosette's dead. Valjean was never reincarnated after last time." He informed him and didn't hear a response. Combeferre turned to see Enjolras staring at his feet. "I've known since that day you found out Grantaire was on drugs, but I didn't tell you." He pushed and Enjolras turned to glare.

"Are you trying to make me angry?" He asked.

"Anything if it gets you out of this depressed funk!" Combeferre snapped back and Enjolras stood to try to punch Combeferre, but Combeferre caught Enjolras's fist and lay him back down on bed. "Take a nap and then a cold shower. We'll go out and find you a new case tomorrow." He decided and Enjolras grunted, his face down on his pillow.

The next morning, as suggested, Enjolras took a cold shower. However, he claimed that he did not want a new case. Instead, he continued working on Grantaire's.

"You know there's nothing anyone can do now, right?" Courfeyrac asked Enjolras as he ran his fingers through Enjolras's hair.

"I can redefine his legacy."

"We could just ask him in sixty years. If he killed himself or not?" Feuilly suggested and for the first time in what seemed like ever, Enjolras glared at Feuilly.

"I want to fix it now. He deserves an honorable funeral."

"He didn't even think he deserved one." Combeferre pointed out, but was ignored.

"Enjolras, I have to go to the park to paint someone tomorrow. Do you want to come?" Feuilly asked.

"No, I'm working."

"You need to stop working." Feuilly responded.

"I love him!" Enjolras announced and they all stared for a moment, but nobody looked particularly shocked.

"We know." Joly finally informed him. "And he'd want you to work hard on finding Cosette again next time through and figuring out how to restart our growing processes."

"Our dying processes." Enjolras muttered the correction and stared down at the papers he had stacked up in front of him. Finally, he reorganized them and placed them in a folder that was shoved at the bottom of the desk's drawer.

"Okay. What connections can we make so far?"


End file.
